A Different Sort of World
by Iffy Jr
Summary: Harry/Draco. OOC/AU-ish. Complete. "What happens when parallel universes really do exist? What happens when the rulers of those universes conspire against those that they rule over?" COMPLETE.
1. Starting Author's Notes

**Starting Author's Notes**

_**KEEP CALM AND CARRY ON READING**_. The actual story comes in the next chapter. I just have a few things to say before you get reading. Of course you can skip this now and just go right into it, but it might confuse you a bit (or a **lot**) and I don't want that. So please keep reading :)

**Beginning A/N's** (sorry, there's a lot): I got this fic idea from the pictures of Tom and Dan wearing their opposite House colours (if you don't know what I'm talking about I'll include a link at the end of these notes)! And then it just...grew from there :) So anyway, that means that Harry's obviously in Slytherin and Draco's in Gryffindor, but what about everybody else? So here: Hermione, Neville, Ginny, and George end up in Slytherin with Blaise and Gregory. Draco, Pansy, and Vincent end up in Gryffindor with Ron and Fred. Everybody else is exactly the same (ex. Harry's parents were still Gryffindor's; Draco's parents and Snape were/are still in Slytherin) except for Luna—still in Ravenclaw—becomes friends with the Slytherin's instead of friends with the Gryffindor's now that they have different members. And there's a huge background story as to why they're not in their "normal" Houses, and you'll read about that in the Prologue :) Also, if Harry kind of seems the same as he always is in some parts, it's because he technically could have ended up in Slytherin anyway!  
Whenever you saw a / in a line all by itself, pretend that's another "enter". If there's just one, pretend that means it's just the breaks between a written note or a poem or something along those lines. _**OoOoOoO**_ means that the perspective of the story has changed (it's told in three perspectives: Harry's, Draco's, and Neville's), and _**XxX**_ means some time has elapsed between the perspectives (that might be completely confusing but it will start making sense once you start reading, don't worry!).  
I'll also have references at the end of each chapter, and what I mean by references is, if I use a line or name that I totally stole from somewhere else (I try really hard not to take movie lines but sometimes they just fit in too perfectly not to be used), or if I use a word in some other language (because I do), then I'll refer to them at the end of the chapter so you know I'm not copywriting and whatnot. But there won't always be any references, nor will there always be an A/N.  
BUT ANYWAY.

**Disclaimer**: Everything in this story belongs to the beautiful JK Rowling's Harry Potter series. Some people wish that they could claim it, but I'm glad it's not mine, because then I wouldn't be able to read it for myself 3  
There's this quote by Toni Morrison that fits nicely here: "If there's a book you really want to read, but it hasn't been written yet, then you must write it." Sure, that's all high and dandy, but sometimes I'd really rather just read something, because if I write then I know everything that happens. Reading it, I'm in suspense! Come on you know you feel the same way :)  
Also, I guess not _everything_ in here belongs to her. I mean, I of course made up some of my own characters and had them work accordingly into the story, so those are mine and not hers…but you know what I mean. It will be obvious unless you haven't read the books. But if that's the case, GO READ THEM NOW.

**Full**** Summary**: They say that the Sorting Hat knows everything…but nobody realizes how true that really is. Parallel Universes really do exist, and in each Universe there is another hat. Each hat knows about the other Universes, but only five of them get together once every year to discuss whatever magical hats like to discuss. But what happens when two of the five hats secretly conspire against some of the students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry? Especially when it's all for their own entertainment…all just to create a _different sort of world_.

**Warnings:** loads of slash, some whacked up cannons, incest, cussing, raging homophobes, and their sex lives. Also, I admit they're British, but I'm a sixteen year old American girl, so forgive me if they sound a bit out of context.

**Pairings:** the main pairing is Drarry of course, there's also a subtle hint of Bellamort (but we never actually see it), an even subtler hint of Snape/Lucius (but they don't actually do anything because I ship Lucius with his wife too hard), and then I would tell you the others but then it would ruin the story. You'll just have to read if you want to know ^-^ Okay wait no I'll tell you about one: Fred and George. So if you hate twincest with a deep burning passion then I suggest you...head out. It's not THAT big a part in the fic though. I mean it's definitely talked about and we "see" it and all that but I'm pretty sure you could get passed it alright. Idk I'm not you!

**Rating:** M-plus, NC-17, whatever you want to call it. The worst one you can have for all of the reasons that are in the warning because I have like everything known to man in here except when one of them gets turned into a baby and no males get pregnant.

**Additional notes **(told you there was a lot!): 1) It generally follows the plotline all through the 5th book (just with different character groupings), while the 6th is completely screwed up, and then it goes back to _some_what the plotline in the 7th.  
2) The first four chapters (meaning year one, two, three, and four) are really short because they're mostly just "background info" and "build-up", so they might not be written very well because they're kind of boring. But I promise it gets better! Year five is when it starts to get really exciting, and you only have to pass about ten pages worth of background information to get there :)  
3) I tried to make it where the chapter titles are just little phrases or things that are really obscure through the chapter or only come up once and it's not even sort of important to it…just to mix it up a bit. Because I hate it when chapter titles basically TELL you exactly what's going to happen. For example, "Harry Loses His Virginity". Obviously Harry loses his virginity here. I mean _really_. Just imagine if Jo, in the 6th book, the chapter called "The Half-Blood Prince" was called "In Which It's Revealed to Harry that Snape is the Half-Blood Prince". OHMYGOSH I BET HE EATS A DINOSAUR IN THIS CHAPTER. Good lord. Anyway… (Insert awkward cough here). Alright, rant over, sorry. Anyway, if the title is really weird and there's zero explanation about it in the chapter (because that will happen at least twice) then I'll explain it in the A/N at the end of the chapter :)  
4) Reviews are much appreciated! :D


	2. Prologue

**Did you read those Starting Author's Notes? No? Go do it then! I'm not even kidding when I say that it will make you so much happier if you do!**

Beginning chapter A/N's: I'd like to dedicate this chapter—hell, I'd like to dedicate the entire _story_ to my close friend (Little Vitriol). She helped me edit through this gigantic thing, and that takes _dedication_ that I could _never_ have! Thanks, hun! :)  
Also, she told me that when she read this chapter I went waaay too overboard and that I should tone it down a bit…I totally didn't, because I love it too much. But just know that it is indeed a bit much :P

**Prologue: Something to Marvel At**

August thirty-first. It was between that date and the day of September first, the first day of a year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It couldn't be _one_ of the dates, because you couldn't be anywhere when between Universes. Time did not exist unless you were in one.

In a room of white stone, there were five stools in a circular formation, and upon each stool was a hat. They were all referred to as "the Sorting Hat" in each of their Universes, and they all lead the same lives, but each of them looked very different from the other. There were more than just five hats of course, since there's an unlimited amount of Universes, but only these fives were friends enough to get together and talk about whatever magical hats talk about.

The first stool had four legs and was made of wood from the redwood tree, glossed down to the very core. It was a hat that looked brand new; that looked fresh out of the box that hats usually came in. This hat did not come from a box, though. From the moment it was created it had lived out in the open, for all to see, being carried and polished over and over so that it would not end up looking shabby. It had a buckle around its brim, where a thin crack was for its mouth to open and close when yelling the Houses that each child that sat beneath it belonged to. It was black, like a classic hat for a witch or wizard, and the buckle was gold. It looked so perfect because it lived in a Universe that wizards and muggles lived together in harmony, and there was never so much stress on it to put the purebloods in the House of Slytherin and divide the others up for the other Houses. The four founders were still alive, because in this Universe they had found the cure for death to those who could afford it.

The second stool had three legs and was made of the light, black, igneous stone that came from volcanoes. It was a hat that had been burnt badly many times, for the Hogwarts that it lived in was on one of the islands of Hawaii, built into the volcano that erupted often on its particular island. It usually sat in a fireproof glass box, looking out over everyone in the school, ready to yell when the volcano was about to explode again. It did not have a buckle, and it was not black, but the brownish-red colour of dried blood. Its school was in a volcano because the Dark Lord Voldemort had killed Harry Potter in the very beginning, and now he was ruling the Universe with an iron fist and a handsome face. Muggles knew about them, but they were all in hiding, being killed off slowly, one by one. But Albus Dumbledore still lived, with help from the Philosophers Stone, so that he could protect young witches and wizards and muggles alike. Hardly anybody could get to the school because of Voldemort, though. There were only twenty students in each House—at the maximum—and five at the minimum. They did not play Quidditch and they only left the castle if with a professor, and that was only when they were practicing their escape drills in case the Dark Lord came upon them. The Slytherin House still existed, but they never turned evil, because they only came if they were trying to _escape_ Voldemort. They were no longer rude and sarcastic, but they were the most loyal and the natural born leaders and the purebloods that did _good _for the Universe.

The third stool had a single leg, large and flat at the base to hold it up, and was made of the wood of an evergreen tree. It was a hat that was perhaps the oldest looking of them all, patched together in bright colours that didn't match. There was no brown or black or gray on it; only pink and blue and green and yellow and orange and red and all the colours of the rainbow that brought thoughts of happiness. This hat had been given wings so that it could fly over all and smile down on it with its love and its faith and its hope. It had no buckle, but instead had a silvery bow lined in gold wrapped around its brim, where its smile would shine over the Universe like its colours of the rainbow. There was no death, but if you wanted to go to heaven all you had to do was ask the hat, and it would fly you up there. And when you wanted to come back down to say hello to people, all you had to do was ask again. There was no pain or sorrow or war; there was only love and hope and faith and peace. There were no muggles because every human on the planet had learned how to use their inner magic. Everyone played Quidditch and everyone played football and there was no such thing as "a muggle creation". They all worked together. Voldemort did not exist—there was only Tom Riddle—and Peter Pettigrew was still the smallest friend of the four Gryffindor Marauders, and the Slytherin House did not have an evil reputation. This hats Universe was perfect.

Now, the fourth and the fifth hat were very similar in the fact that they were complete opposites.

They had the same stool (four legs and made from the wood of an elder tree) and they looked the same (they were faded brown and wrinkled and patchy with mouths in their brims that looked like a knife had slit it open haphazardly) and they thought in the same fashion. Their Universes had the same people, the same deaths, the same corruptions…but the thoughts of their _people_ were different, and their corruptions were for different reasons.

In the Universe of the fifth hat, Tom Riddle had still become Lord Voldemort, and Harry Potter was still the boy destined to destroy him, and both of his parents had still been killed and he had still had to live with the Dursley's. But in the Universe of the fourth hat, Voldemort was on the muggle sides, and he killed the Potter's because they were trying to kill muggles. Harry was going to destroy him not because of the prophecy, but because he destroyed his parents in the first place. And the Dursley's were not the horrible relatives that made Harry live in a broom cupboard, but nice and sweet—Harry was the cruel one. Peter Pettigrew betrayed his fellow Marauders because they were killing people, and Albus Dumbledore promoted the abuse of both muggles and house elves. Severus Snape still fell in love with Lily Potter and left Voldemort because he killed her, but now the sides were opposites. Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange were still the most loyal Death Eaters—they were still called Death Eaters because they were trying to stop death; they were eating it away so that it no longer existed. The Order of the Phoenix was a secret organization that still tried to stop Voldemort, but now the sides were opposites. The sons and daughters of muggles hated their families because they were now _mudbloods_, and the sons and daughters of purebloods were fascinated with everything _muggle_.

But in the Universe of the fifth hat, all was opposite. It was the "normal" Universe. The Universe that we've come to know and love.

But the fourth and fifth Sorting Hat's had decided to play a little joke. Well…a very large joke, actually.

Between a date, during one of the meetings, they had been able to stop time even while back inside of their Universes. And they had gone into their Universes and taken a few of its members and _switched_ them.

At the time that Harry Potter would be eight years old is when they made the switch.

They switched Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, George Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson, and Vincent Crabbe.

They switched all of their memories, but left them with their opposite personalities. So Harry still would still want to destroy Voldemort when he learned about his existence, and when in his Universe there was no prophecy, there is now, and he thinks that that's the reason he's trying to hurt him. And Hermione hates her family. And Neville is out to get Bellatrix because she still tortured his parents. And George is still a troublemaker—he's just in a different House than his twin. Ginny is still badass, but in a darker way. Draco is no longer rude; he's shy and he's sweet and he's downright friendlier. Pansy and Vincent are opposites as well.

There were other hats that hadn't switched, so they could go and check on that Universe any time they wanted to see what would have really happened… But they liked their Universes better.

It made for something to marvel at; something to do.

_**OoOoOoO**_

"They're all going to meet tomorrow," says the second Sorting Hat.

"Yes, how do you suppose it's going to happen?" asks the first Sorting Hat.

"However it happens is how it will go," says the fifth Sorting Hat.

"Yes, you all know not to question whatever the Fate's have set in store for them," the fourth Sorting Hat says.

"The _Fate's_," the third Sorting Hat says in a mocking tone. "Since when have any of us believed in following _them_? They're terrible at making anything come true."

"As far as we _know_," says the fourth hat.

"And we know quite a lot," says the first hat with a dignified chuckle.

"You got that right," says the second hat with a slightly forced snicker.

The third hat giggles, the fourth hat laughs loudly, and the fifth hat gives a funny little snort.

Each of the hats of their own laugh, different for the Universe that they live in.

The first hat is the Proud.

The second hat is the Pained.

The third hat is the Perfect.

And the fourth and fifth hats are the Parallel.

"Anyway," the first hat says once he's finished chuckling, "What about those Weasley twins? Do you think they'll figure it out?"

"Eventually," says the fourth hat. "They already did in _my_ Universe, so it's only a matter of time before they jump to it in the fourth."

"Yes, I can't wait," says the fifth hat.

"I don't like it," says the third. "It's just so…so…"

"Stop it," says the second hat. "It's not your Universe to work with. Let's talk about something else, shall we? I heard they're coming out with a new Chocolate Frog card in the seventeenth Universe!"

"Really?" gasps the third hat happily. "Ooh, who's on it?"

"Hermione Granger, of course," says the fourth hat. "She created an everlasting Polyjuice potion."

"At eleven?" exclaims the first hat.

"Does it have a reversal potion?" asks the fifth hat. "I mean, being stuck as Helga Hufflepuff for your entire lifetime would be a bit much, don't you think?"

"Yes, of course it has a reversal potion," says the second hat.

"Oh, good, then. I would hate to be out of my seams for too long."

"I _also _heard," continues the second hat, "that in the two-thousand, seven-hundred, and thirty-sixth Universe that Percy and Ronald Weasley escaped from Azkaban with the help of Fleur Delacour again."

The other four hats groan.

"_Again_?" asks the fifth hat.

"Honestly!" says the fourth. "Percy and Ronald still have seventeen years in there! Their murder of Gellert Grindelwald is not something to be held _lightly_ in their Universe."

"And don't even get me started on _Fleur_!" says the third hat loudly.

"Here we go..." mutters the first hat.

"She was so sweet as a child! Little did they all suspect she was in league with Severus Snape to take over the world! Dear all that's high and mighty, do you remember the way she just laughed when they brought her in for questioning? Gave me shudders straight through my seams, that did! And—oh my! I almost forgot! Did you know hear how the hat from the one-hundred and eighty-ninth Universe lots its speech ability?"

All of the four other hats gasp.

"Yes, I heard!" says the first hat. "It's terrible! The Minister of Magic in that Universe—Peter Pettigrew, I mean—is doing all he can to get him to help talk again, but the Headmaster of that Hogwarts—Narcissa Malfoy, you know—is doing all _she _can to make up another way for the hat to say the House that a student belongs in."

"And isn't Lily Potter trying to think of a potion that will help?" asks the fourth hat. "She's the Potions professor there, right?"

The second hat nods. "Yes, but it's all so confusing with the wedding of the Care of Magical Creatures and Astronomy professors! What a terrible time for the hat to lose its voice!"

"Who's which professor again?" asks the fifth hat.

"Oh, Bellatrix Lestrange is the Care of Magical Creatures professor," says the third hat, "and Tom Riddle is the Astronomy teacher."

The second hat sighs. "I wish _my_ Tom was a Ravenclaw graduate. I'm so sick of lava and fire and this stupid black rock everywhere…it's so sharp!"

"Oh, quite complaining," says the third hat.

"Easy for _you_ to say!" yells the fourth. "Everything's perfect in _your_ Universe."

"It's not my fault nearly everybody in your Universes take the wrong paths," says the third hat gruffly.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, pinky," mutters the first hat.

They talk for another hour—if there was time, that is, for there to have been an hour to pass—before it's time that does not exist for the hats to go.

"Don't let Salazar try and feed you to the crocodiles again!" says the second hat to the first.

"And don't leave your glass box or you'll singe yourself again!" says the third to the second.

"Don't lose yourself in the clouds again," the fourth hat says to the third with a loud laugh.

"Don't Sort anybody wrong or all of this is pointless!" says the fifth hat to the fourth.

"Make sure Severus doesn't attempt to bring Lily back from the dead in your Universe again," says the first hat to the fifth. "It caused a slight riff at my place."

And then, a door opens in the wall of the white marble and four phoenixes fly into the room. The royal purple one flies in and takes the first, the black ones takes the second, the third hat flies away on its own wings, and the two red ones take the fourth and fifth.

When each of them had gotten back to their Universes, time again begins to flow.

* * *

A/N: Yeah, definitely had a _bit_ too much fun thinking up the different types of Sorting Hat's. Also in the one hundred and eighty-ninth Universes when I was choosing the names to make it the absolute weirdest thing possible... AND in the two-thousand, seven-hundred, and thirty-sixth Universe when I chose three of the least possible people who would be criminals... Yeah, way too much fun. No regrets!


	3. Year 1

**Year One: The White Remembrall**

Beginning chapter A/N's: I'd like to dedicate this chapter to my cat, Angel, who looks nothing like the cats in this story. But oh well!

* * *

Draco Malfoy chooses the first empty car on the train, but his being alone is quickly interrupted by a flaming red haired first year boy sticking his head in.

"Excuse me," the boy says quietly. "Do you mind? All of the other cars are taken."

"No, not at all," Draco says, smiling brightly at the other boy.

"I'm Ron," he says as he sits in the booth across from Draco. "Ron Weasley."

"I'm Malfoy," the white haired boy says, sticking his hand out to him. "Draco Malfoy."

The boys smile brightly at each other as they shake hands.

Draco and Ron get talking instantly. They don't have very much in common, but Draco is still thrilled to have a friend. It certainly beats hanging around his Manor by himself. Of course, there's always Dobby!

About halfway through the train ride to the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a first year girl with short, dark hair sticks her head into their compartment with a boy that looks twice her size standing behind her. "Forgive me," she says, "but have you seen a kitten running around here? I can't seem to find her anywhere, and my friend here hasn't seen her eith—"

"Pansy, look, I found her!" says the big boy. He bends out of sight for a second, and when he leans up he has a kitten just barely old enough to leave its mother with brown and white spotted fur.

"Oh, Spirit, I thought I'd lost you!" the girl called Pansy says, taking the kitten from the other boy. She kisses its head, and then turns back to Draco and Ron and says, "Do you mind if we sit with you? We can't remember where we last were. Everything looks so similar..."

"No, come on in," Ron and Draco say together, their bright smiles back.

Pansy and the other boy give the two boys equally bright smiles as they come into their car, leaving the door wide open.

"I'm Pansy Parkinson," says the girl, "and this is Vincent Crabbe." The other boy smiles toothily.

"Well I'm Ron Weasley," Ron says.

"And I'm Draco Malfoy," Draco says.

"Do you want to hold Spirit?" Pansy asks.

Draco nods happily and takes the little kitten from Pansy. It nuzzles its face into his hand and curls up to sleep right away.

"Ooh, she likes you!" Pansy says.

"Yes, isn't that just _so_ cute," says a new and very _mean_ voice from outside of the door.

The four in the compartment look up to see two others standing right outside of the door, ugly sneers on their two faces.

"Because kittens are just the cutest thing in the _world_," the boy sneers again. "And of cou—good gods, is that a _Weasley_?" he says, looking at Ron like he's going to be sick. "Nice hand-me-down robes."

Ron frowns sadly and looks down at the ground.

The mean boy turns to focus on Draco. "And you're Draco Malfoy. Pureblood like you hanging out with a Weasel like him? Ha!" The three others with him chuckle as well. "I'm not even pureblood and I think that's disgusting. I'm Harry Potter—you know, the Boy Who Lived and all—and this is my friend Neville Longbottom. Why don't you come with us, Draco, before you ruin that nice reputation of yours? We'll make sure you don't end up with the _wrong sort_." Potter sticks his hand out to Draco.

An awkward silence goes over the entire compartment as Draco stares at Potter's hand. But finally:

"No," Draco says sternly. "Thank you, but I would rather stay with my friends _here_."

The four others laugh loudly.

"Suit yourself, _Malfoy_," Potter spits, and then he and his friend lumber off with smug grins, like they haven't just been rejected completely.

"Thanks mate," Ron says to Draco, a smile on his face that suggests that Draco's just saved his life.

"Yeah, that was really brave of you," Pansy says.

"I would have just flattened him!" Vincent says, swinging his arms like a boxer.

"No problem," Draco says with a smile. "I don't want to be friends with the sodding Boy Who Lived anyway. You just know that he's going to be _nightmare_."

The three others giggle, but Draco just smiles at them. He wasn't lying—Potter is _bound_ to be a nightmare, he's sure of it—but he would never tell anybody how close he was to taking his hand. It wasn't that he was too scared to refuse (he tries not to be afraid of anything, and he does rather well at it), but it was the fact that Draco happens to like boys, and Harry Potter happens to be exactly what he likes. Of course, Draco is only eleven, so it's not the strongest feeling in the world... But they're there, and it isn't going to go away anytime soon.

_**OoOoOoO**_

_Once they've arrived at the Hogwarts castle…_

"When you walk through these doors," Professor McGonagall says loudly to the large group of first years before her, "you will be sorted into one of the four houses: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin."

"Naturally she says the best house last and the worst one first," Harry Potter mutters to Neville beside him, earning a chuckle from both his friend and two others beside them. The boy is huge for a first year, but the girl is small, with teeth only just too big and hair bigger than Harry's ever seen. But they look the part.

"Your house is your _family_ while you are at Hogwarts," McGonagall continues, "and things that you do can affect your family. Things that you do well will _earn_ House points, but things that you do wrong will have points taken _away_. At the end of the year we will add up the points, and whichever House has the most points at the end of the year will win the _House Cup_. Now if you will follow me once more, we will enter the _Great Hall_ where you will meet the _Sorting Hat_."

She turns around with a sweep of her cloak, and the first years follow her into the Great Hall.

The Sorting Hat is old and ugly and ripped to Harry, and he completely tunes out the entire song that it sings. Whoever heard of a hat that sings?

Finally, McGonagall starts to call names up to the hat. But Harry only pays attention to eight of the names:

"Gryffindor!" the Sorting Hat calls for Vincent Crabbe. "Slytherin!" for Gregory Goyle—the big boy who laughed at Harry's sarcastic remark. "Slytherin!" for Hermione Granger—the big haired girl—the first Mudblood to ever set foot into the Slytherin House. "Slytherin!" for Neville Longbottom, who saunters over to the Slytherin table with a Remembrall in his hands, the smoke swirling around like a white cloud. "Gryffindor!" for Draco Malfoy, who goes up with a confident air and a bright smile. "Gryffindor!" for Pansy Parkinson, who sits shyly between Crabbe and Malfoy.

And then Harry's going up, cool and collected and smug. He sits down on the chair, and the Sorting Hat doesn't shout Slytherin right away. Instead, it speaks loud enough so that only Harry will hear: "Ah, Harry Potter, I've been waiting for you."

"That's nice," Harry says, "but you can Sort me now. I don't like to be kept waiting."

"Oh, I remember when you were so much nicer…now you're cold… Well, not you, of course, but still you.

"I was _nice_? What universe are _you_ from? I've lived in a broom cupboard my entire life. It's hard to be nice to anybody."

"Ah, dear Harry, the real question is what Universe are _you_ from? And the broom cupboard is not what made you cold. There is a boy who is so much more pleasant than you! His heart is of gold, but yours is silver and black."

"I swear to Merlin, if you put me in Hufflepuff…"

"Relax, child, you're not right for sweet Helga's House. No, you are nothing like the other boy…"

"Are you talking about my father?"

The Hat chuckles quietly. "Not in the least, young one. I am referring to still another."

"Yes, well, I hope I never have to meet hi—"

"SLYTHERIN!" booms the hat, and Harry walks smugly down the stairs. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, in the best House in all of Hogwarts. Good.

And then the Hat says "Gryffindor!" to the least important name on the list: Ronald Weasley. But Harry only hears his name in passing.

Harry sits proudly between Neville and Hermione, Greg on the girls other side, as the Slytherin table continues to congratulate themselves for getting _Harry Potter_ and congratulating Harry for being _the right sort_.

One thing does greatly bother Harry, though. There, across from him, is a Weasley. George Weasley, he calls himself, but when he speaks to Harry he is no longer bothered. He can almost see the evil coming out of his eyes and mouth when he speaks. They are going to be very good friends, yes they are.

"And my twin, Fred, is over there, revolting creature," George continues, pointing at the Gryffindor table.

Harry turns around to see the "another George" clasping both Ron Weasley and Draco Malfoy on the shoulders as he says something their Slytherin table can't hear over the racket of the crowd.

"Unless my little and only sister Ginny—Gin, I call her—is sorted into Slytherin, I'm the only Weasley that's gotten in here," George says proudly. "You can imagine how awkward the holidays are. I get used to it after a week into the summer, except for the part that Fred and I still have to share a room."

"I am _so_ sorry for you," Harry says, patting George's arm with a hand. "If I could blast them all away for you I _definitely_ would."

"So nice of you," George says with a mystifying smile.

_Oh, we are going to be such good friends_, Harry thinks about George. _Very good friends indeed_.

For Harry happens to like boys, and even though he is only eleven, his feelings about it are very strong. You see, Slytherin's know how to make up their minds about something right away, and that's exactly what the Boy Who Lived has done. He had found that he liked boy's way back at the age of eight, and that was not going to change anytime soon or ever. And, naturally, Draco Malfoy is exactly the type of boy that Harry tends to like; white hair, gray eyes, and smaller than him—well, Malfoy is taller than him, but he's thinner in every other aspect. George is two years older than Harry, so he's much bigger, but it will do. At least for now, because Harry's little crush on the Malfoy boy is not the strongest right now, but it is not going to stop growing anytime soon.

* * *

A/N: Just to make it clear, yes, eleven-year-old Harry was blatantly hitting on thirteen-year-old George.


	4. Year 2

**Year Two: The Three-Legged Desk**

Beginning chapter A/N's: This chapter is dedicated to the three-legged dog in the movie "The Kid", with Bruce Willis. (If you haven't seen it, gooo!)

* * *

It's Harry second year at Hogwarts, and this is the year that George's youngest sibling/only sister, Ginny, arrives. She's standing in the crowd of scared first years, though Harry doesn't recall ever seen another first year aside from himself look as calm and confident as Ginny Weasley does right now.

Her eyes first find her two brothers at the Gryffindor table, and she sticks her tongue out at them. They then slide away and find George at the Slytherin table, and she grins so menacingly that Harry is sure she'll be joining them in the best House any moment now. He glances at George, who gives him a sly smile that Harry understands as_ she takes after me_.

Gin isn't called until almost the very end, what with her last name starting with W and whatnot, and she walks coolly up the steps and sits on the stool.

Professor McGonagall sets the Sorting Hat on top of her head, and after about three seconds it shouts, "Slytherin!"

The Slytherin table erupts into applause, but Harry and George are easily the loudest.

Gin glides her way over to sit beside George, who is sitting across from Harry. They introduce her to Neville, Hermione, and Greg, effectively ignoring the rest of the Sorting. And when the Sorting is done, and the Headmaster is giving his speech, Harry happens to look away and right at Gin without a purpose, and she gives him a very obvious wink. Harry can't help but grin back, no matter how much he doesn't actually like girls.

_**OoOoOoO**_

_Months later..._

Draco wanders aimlessly through the corridors of the Hogwarts School, looking for Ron and Vince. They were being downright odd, those two. First they went missing for about half an hour, and Draco and Pansy eventually gave up looking for them and went to the Gryffindor common room. When they finally did show up in the common room they stayed only just long enough to question Draco about his being the Slytherin heir and opening the Chamber of Secrets, but Draco repeated to them that even if his _parents_ were in Slytherin that didn't mean that he had to follow in their footsteps even in a different House—and also that he would never reopen something that would cause somebody to die.

And suddenly they began to act even more peculiar, turning away so that Draco and Pansy couldn't see their faces and then running out without another explanation. Although Draco did notice that Ron's hair started to...darken.

It had been another half an hour since then, and while Draco set out to look for them, Pansy assured him that they would return themselves and went off to bed, while Fred wouldn't stop staring into the fire with a glum expression. He was probably thinking about his Slytherin twin, George. They had been the closest of friends until George turned ten, when suddenly something...switched. Ever since then George has made it his goal to ruin lives (including Fred's), and that's part of the reason that he was the first Weasley to ever set foot into the Slytherin common room. And now, for the past four years at Hogwarts, they have been completely separated by more than just their views. Gryffindor's and Slytherin's have always been natural enemies, so now the twins can't even look at each other, let alone talk and try to work out their differences like normal twins. What a nightmare the holidays must be...

Draco continues to search high and low, and just as he's about to give up like Pansy told him to and go back to the common room to get some sleep, Potter and his three cronies (Longbottom, Granger, and Goyle) round the corner at the far end of the corridor.

Even though they're all as far from each other as the corridor will allow, they all stop walking right away and just stare at each other.

"And look who's here!" Longbottom eventually calls.

"Looking for your friends, Malfoy?" Granger questions nastily.

"You have _friends_?" Goyle sneers.

Without answering, Draco turns around and runs away as fast as he can. He knows that he's no match for even one of the four (expect maybe Goyle), but _all_ four?—he's toast. He may be Gryffindor, but he knows when he's just going to get himself killed. He'll go after each of them individually some other night. It's easier anyway.

He hears the four Slytherin's give chase immediately, but Draco has an entire corridor's head start, so he's found and slammed the door of an empty classroom long before they reach him. He hears sets of shoes run into the corridor he's in through the door that he's pressing his ear to, and Granger says, "Search all of the rooms! I'll stand out here and make sure he doesn't slip out when we're not looking."

"Ohh, this is going to be so much fun!" Goyle laughs.

Three doors open in the hallway, and Draco takes that cue to hide a little better than in the middle of the room. He turns around and, to his horror, finds that the only items in the room are an ugly red couch facing away from the door to a wall with no decorations whatsoever, a three-legged desk, and a cabinet as tall as his knees.

No real hiding places.

So he jumps underneath the desk, getting into a position that's not only comfortable for him, but he can also see the door through a crack in the desk with one eye—and it's only a second later that the door opens with a bang.

Potter strides in slowly, his green eyes darting around for a quick survey of the room. Draco watches him eye the couch and the cabinet for hardly a second before he stares directly at the crack in the desk through which Draco is watching—and Draco knows that Potter sees him right away because of the glint in his eyes.

And suddenly, the strangest thing in the entire world happens.

Potter winks, and then he turns around saying, "The little prick's not in this one!" and shuts the door behind him with another loud bang.

Draco doesn't dare move, because he's sure that it's a trick.

But according to his watch he sits there for twelve minutes before crawling out from beneath the desk, and not once in that time did another soul come through the doors, and Draco didn't hear another sound from his four greatest enemies.

_**OoOoOoO**_

Malfoy bursts from the room in silence, running in the opposite direction from Neville's hiding place from behind a corner. When Malfoy is long gone, he jumps up and runs into the same classroom that the Gryffindor had been hiding in.

Neville frowns when he sees that the room is bare of any sort of hiding place at all.

Why does he frown? Because that means that Harry _did_ find Draco in this room, which in turn means that he had let the white haired boy go.

And why, after about a year and a half of showing open hatred to each other, would Harry do that?


	5. Year 3

**Year Three: Promises to Yourself**

Beginning chapter A/N's: This chapter is dedicated to Hagrid, because I completely botch his accent. So, I apologize to him and all of you in advance for what you're about to read!

* * *

"Now make sure yeh don' insult 'em!" Hagrid says again to the third year Gryffindor's and Slytherin's that he's teaching at the moment. It's their first class with him, and he's showing them all a group of creatures called hippogriffs.

Potter and Longbottom are already sitting on the back of one of the creatures, and it's strutting around like it and they own the place. His two other friends, Granger and Goyle, are just now getting onto theirs, but they and the creature look just as smug. Pansy has just gotten hers and Vince's Hippogriff to bow to them, and they're scratching between its ears and stroking its beak. Ron and Draco, on the other hand, are about halfway through. It already bowed to Ron, so he's sitting happily on its back, but the creature hasn't bowed to Draco yet, and he's just waiting patiently with his fists closed tight. The creature eyes him wearily, and when it starts to bow he lets out the biggest sigh of relief he can remember letting out.

But that was the wrong thing to do.

The hippogriffs eyes suddenly flame at Draco, and it rears up so fast that Ron has no choice but to scream as he's flipping off into a crumpled heap on the ground. And it scares Draco so bad that he stumbles over the back of his robes and goes crashing to the ground as well, a rock jabbing into his elbow. And to make matters worse, before Hagrid can get over to stop the creature, it lunges forward and lashes out a talon, slicing painfully across the same arm that had the pleasure of saying hello to the stone, leaving a large and slightly curved gash.

"Buckbeak, no!" Hagrid yells loudly, and he only just stops the creature from lashing out at Draco again.

Draco can't get himself to move from his heavily breathing spot on the ground, even as everybody crowds around, and even as Harry Potter drops to his knees beside him so fast he might have almost apparated.

"Malfoy, are you alright?" he asks, and Draco looks over at him very slowly, with a very confused expression on his face. Did Potter sound like he actually _cared_, or was it just his imagination?

"Because if you _are_ I'm going to have to hurt you myself!" Potter snaps, deep malice suddenly clouding over his eyes.

Yes, just his imagination.

"I'm fine, thanks," Draco sneers. "I'll happily have a go at you so you can attempt to change that, though!"

"Oh, will you now?" Potter starts to reach for his wand, but Longbottom pulls him away from Draco as Hagrid lumbers over to him.

"Draco, are yeh alright?" he asks.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he says, standing up with the help of his good arm. "It's just a scratch."

"Draco!" Pansy says, appearing beside Hagrid. "That's not a scratch! It's huge! You get up to the hospital wing this _instant_!"

"Oh, honestly, Pansy, I'm going to be fine."

Her expression changes from concerned to angry and downright frightening.

"Just kidding!" Draco says, taking a step away from her and almost tripping over his robes again. "I'm going, I'm going!"

"And take the Weasel while you're at it!" Granger says, and the Slytherin's burst into loud laughter when everyone turns to see Ron lying unconscious in the dirt.

"Ron!" Pansy screams, leaping over to him an instant. "Oh, Ron, are you alright?"

Ron groans but doesn't wake up.

"Alri't, alri't, 'eryone mov' aside!" Hagrid says, and when they do he scoops Ron up into his arms. Then he turns to everyone else and says, "I want yeh all back at my hut now, all o' yeh's!" He turns to Draco. "Come on, Draco, bess' we get the two o' yeh up to Poppy."

_**OoOoOoO**_

Hagrid, Malfoy, and Weasley all disappear out of the clearing in the forest, and Neville, Harry, Hermione, and Greg all burst into loud laughter.

"Did you see the look on his face?" Neville says about Malfoy.

"And Weasley looked like an old lump!" Hermione snickers.

They all burst into laughter again, but Neville can't help but notice that Harry doesn't seem as into it as usual.

When they stop talking, Neville asks (with only his eyes) if Harry is all right, and Harry smiles brightly and nods at him.

But Neville knows there's something wrong with him, and he's going to find out, he _promises_—even if the promise is only to himself.


	6. Year 4

**Year Four: The Gryffindor's Oblivion**

Beginning chapter A/N's: This chapter is dedicated to Neville, because I feel bad for making him a jerk :( But I have to, because he's a Slytherin now! Just…ugh he's too sweet to be mean I hate it.

* * *

"He went with _her_?" Draco whispers furiously into the ear of his own date to the Yule Ball, appalled.

"Shh!" Karen says back.

Draco rolls his eyes. The only reason that he went to the Ball with a Beauxbatons girl is because he couldn't bring himself to come out of the closet and go with a boy (namely Harry, but he couldn't be able to get himself to ask a Slytherin anyway), and all of the other girls he could have brought were taken.

Pansy is with Vincent, Ron went with Parvati, Seamus went with Lavender, and that right there pretty much destroys Draco's age selection. Even all of Potter's Slytherin friends managed to get dates in their own House! Goyle is with Bullstrode, Longbottom is with the Weaslette, and Zabini…well, Draco can relate to him, actually, he's with some Ravenclaw girl. And Potter…Potter is with the rude Granger girl. Horrible taste, honestly.

The other Triwizard contestants branched out a bit more than that. Cedric Diggory is with a Ravenclaw girl as well, Fleur Delacour is with a Ravenclaw boy (Draco sees absolutely no sense in anyone's infatuation with the "smartest House"), and Viktor Krum is with a seventh year Gryffindor (_he_ at least has good taste).

"They look _terrible_ together," Draco mutters.

"Oh, honestly," Karen hisses. "I did not come to this with you to listen to your jealous antics of a _different_ girl."

Draco wrinkles his nose up in disgust over swooning over _Hermione Granger_. But he can't very well tell Karen that he's swooning over Potter, either…

He opens his mouth to retort something else, but it goes dry when he glances up to see none other than his infatuation staring right at him.

And Potter winks.

_**XxX**_

_Months later, at the conclusion of the Triwizard Tournament…_

Potter and Cedric Diggory appear in the middle of the stands, the Triwizard Cup glowing between them. The cheers from the crowd signify the end of the Triwizard Tournament; Draco is sure that Ron, Pansy, and Vince are cheering for Cedric (because with both Cedric and Harry, they're the only owns who know who actually won), but he's cheering for Potter. Even if Potter cheated to get in, he deserves to win, because—

Draco's thoughts trail off. Cedric hasn't moved since they showed up, and Harry is...Harry is crying.

_**OoOoOoO**_

Harry's face burns hot with tears at his memories; he's embarrassed, but he doesn't care—it's not a crime for a Slytherin to cry, especially from the memories that Harry ahs specifically. Voldemort is back—it's not a crime for a Slytherin to detest the Dark Lord, especially if he killed your parents. Cedric is dead—it's not a crime for a Slytherin to feel bad for somebody's death, especially if the death was all your fault.

Harry glances up to the place where he knows Dumbledore will be, and at the same time the Headmaster is standing up with a look of horror on his face, Harry sees Malfoy running so fast down the stands to get off/out of them he'll probably trip.

Malfoy gets to Harry at the same time as Dumbledore and Professor Moody (who did in fact turn Malfoy into a fuzzy white ferret because of a _huge_ misunderstanding between him and Harry—though Harry and his Slytherin buddies said _nothing_ because there was no _way_ they would want Harry to be turned into a _rodent_), dropping in front of Harry to his knees like a brick.

"Potter, are you alright?" he asks frantically.

Harry remembers that Draco's father is a Death Eater, so even in the middle of everything he is able to frown at the white haired Gryffindor. "Is it just my imagination," he sneers, "or do you sound like you actually care?"

Malfoy cocks an eyebrow. "Did you not hear me? I asked if Cedric was...was dead."

Oh, it _was_ just his imagination. And what an imaginative one at that...

Harry only has time to nod before Malfoy is pushed aside by all of the teachers trying to get to the Boy Who Lived Again.

_No!_ Harry thinks. _Bring him back! Bring him BACK!_

_**OoOoOoO**_

_Wait!_ Draco thinks. _Wait, no, let me stay with him! I sear I'll tell him, I swear!_

But Draco knows, deep down in the back of his brain, that he's only thinking that...he doesn't truly mean it. Telling Potter about his feelings is not going to happen. Not unless he felt like a good, healthy dose of suicide would make him feel better.

And no, it won't. So Draco just pushes himself to his feet and runs away to cry at the Black Lake as fast as he can, being sure not to let any tears slip before he's out of anyone's view.

_**OoOoOoO**_

Up in the stands, Neville makes his way unnoticed by everyone else (because they're just now seeing that Cedric Diggory is dead) to Parkinson, Weasley, and Crabbe.

"Parkinson," he hisses when he gets to them, and the two others don't even notice him.

Parkinson whirls at him. "Longbottom! What do you _want_?"

"I need to discuss something with you."

"Discuss _what_?"

"Harry and Malfoy."

The malice in her face melts away and is replaced with confusion. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," Neville says, rolling his eyes. "Come or be forever confused.

As he turns away, Parkinson mutters, "Well, if you put it _that_ way."

They make their way down the stairs and behind the stands before Neville pops his question: "Did you see that?"

"See what?"

_Gryffindor's_, he thinks, rolling his eyes. _Sodding idiots_. And then he says aloud, "Malfoy sprinted faster than the wind to Potter's side. How could you _miss_ that?"

"Oh, that!" Parkinson says. "The only word he muttered before he ran down there was 'gone'. He was obviously asking Potter if he or Cedric had won."

Neville blinks at her. "You got that out of the word _gone_?"

Parkinson nods meaningfully.

"Whatever you say, Parkinson. But I want to know something else. Am I the only one who's noticed how often they watch each other?"

"Draco and Potter?"

"No, Hermione and Crabbe!"

"Oh, I haven't noticed—"

"You're an idiot," Neville interrupts with a dark expression. "Yes I meant Harry and Malfoy!"

"Oh! Well, yeah, of course they watch each other. I look at you all the time, too. It's easiest to create evil plans against a person if you're looking at them."

"Really?" Neville asks, but inside he's thinking, _What an unobservant idiot_.

Parkinson nods again.

"I guess that answers my question then." _The question of whether you have any intelligence at ALL._ He turns and starts to walk away.

"Wait, Longbottom!" Parkinson calls. "What were you going to say?"

"Nothing."

And before Parkinson can catch him, Neville has lost himself in the terrified crowd and its screams.


	7. Year 5, Part I

**Year Five, Part I: Yet**

Beginning chapter A/N's: This chapter is dedicated to those of you who can't stand Harry and George as a couple. You'll understand soon enough…

* * *

Draco is so late for his next class that it doesn't even matter anymore. He walks slowly through the corridors, his school bag being dragged carelessly from the strap behind him. He would have tried walking a little faster, but it was _di__vination_, and who would hurry for that? Professor Trelawney would just ask him why he was late, and Draco would roll his eyes at her sight abilities and say, "A student of the divine art is never late, Professor Trelawney. Nor is he early. He arrives _precisely_ when he means to."

Besides, this corridor has windows stretching the entire length of the wall, and the sun is shining in beautifully. Who wants to be cramped in a hot room that smells weird when they could be basking in the sunshine?

In fact, Draco decides right then and there that he's not even going to go to Divination. He's going to explore the castle and hope to Merlin that he doesn't run into Filch. It takes a few minutes, but he decides that he's going to go and find that very classroom that he hid in from Potter, Longbottom, Granger, and Goyle three years ago when Ron and Vince had been acting all peculiar like.

He makes is way down the corridors in a carefree skip, reminding himself of the preferred way Luna Lovegood transports herself from class to class, until he stops before the short door in the deserted hallway.

Here it is, looking exactly the same as he remembers it. Of course, that was just the door. He pushes it opens—and the instant that both his feet cross the threshold he stops.

There, on the ugly red couch he had last seen three years ago, sitting up to stare both in surprise and anger, is Potter and Fred's twin, George. They had leaned up in such a way that let Draco know that Weasley had been lying on top of Potter while kissing him; their hair is standing up on all ends and their lips are red and swollen. They're completely dressed (much to Draco's happiness) apart from their cloaks over the back of the couch and one of Potter's shoes strewn carelessly by the far wall.

"Oh!" Draco squeaks almost instantly, for he had taken all of this into his mind in about one-point-five seconds.

He starts to back out as quickly as possible, but Potter, Weasley, and their wands are faster:

"_Expelliarmus_!" Potter yells at the same time that Weasley yells, "_Petrificus Totalus_!"

Draco's wand flies from his hand at the same time that he goes rigid as a board, falling backwards out of the door and hitting the stone floor with a _thunk_.

Both of the Slytherin boys leap over the couch and pull Draco and his bag into the room, and as Potter puts locking and silencing charms on the door, Weasley carries Draco and flops him onto the couch.

"What should we do to him?" Weasley asks when Potter joins his side.

"First we'll explain what he saw to freak him out some more," Potter says with his evil green eyes glinting down at Draco. "And then we'll tie him up—for when the curse wares off—and leave him here."

Weasley snorts. "We won't even hit him with a memory charm?"

Potter shrugs. "No point. Someone was going to catch us some time, and it might as well be the one who will make it spread the fastest, right? I'm sort of sick of being in the closet, anyway." He turns away from Draco and looks at Weasley with a cross between a mysterious and a warm smile—however difficult it is to mix those two up, Draco does it. "Although, if you want to keep hiding I'll happily change the memory so that he remembers your twin instead of you."

Weasley chuckles. "That would be funny, but no. Spending your life in a closet is really no fun at all. You would know, after all."

They grin at each other, and suddenly they're kissing so fervently that Draco wants to be sick—but he can't, and it's not even possible for him to close is eyes or plug his ears.

They finally pull apart, and Potter points his wand at Draco and whispers, "_Incarcerous_," and a series of ropes jump out and ties Draco tightly to the actually quite comfortable couch.

"Well then, Malfoy!" Potter says, the evil glint back in his eyes as he sits on the floor with his legs crossed in front of the terrified Gryffindor. "To make it obvious, the great Harry Potter happens to be mind meltingly _gay_."

Draco's heart soars. If Potter is gay like him, then that means there's a chance! But then reality crashes down on him. Even if they weren't mortal enemies, he's a Gryffindor, and Potter is a Slytherin. It would never and will never happen...it's just not possible.

"George here, on the other hand," Potter continues, "swings both ways." (Weasley winks when Potter says this.) "We're not going out; it's just something we do when the sexual tension gets too much. Even though we're Slytherin's we're not all always into the whole _friends with benefits_ thing—though we're not _that_ against it, so we show up here at least once a week."

"Usually more," Weasley says, and he and Potter laugh for a couple of seconds.

"Anyway," Potter says, leaning back on his hands as Weasley sits down at the other end of the couch so that he's leaning against it with his left shoulder and facing both Draco and Potter. "We're both still virgins, if that question's bouncing around inside that head of yours." (_It was_, Draco thinks, though he can't say it out loud.) "As evil as you see us, we'd rather save the, er, fun parts for somebody we really love."

Weasley chuckles almost inaudibly, and Potter turns and gives him a heart-stopping glare, but that only makes the bigger boy chuckle harder and louder. And so, Potter balls his hand into a fist and crashes it down on the other Slytherin's knee—_hard_.

Weasley curses so loudly that Draco is sure the entire castle heard it (and he hopes so, so then somebody will come and rescue him), and he pulls his knee up and clutches it tightly to his chest.

"Serves you right," Potter mutters, and then turns back to Malfoy. "Any questions?"

If Draco had been able to at least only move the muscles in his face, he would have given the kind of look to Potter that screamed _you must be stupid_.

Potter takes the hint and laughs at himself. "Well, however much of an idiot I was right then, it's time for George and I to get going. Class is going to be over soon and we need to come up with a story to tell everybody else until you let the real one out." Potter winks, and Weasley is over his knee "injury", so they both jump to a standing position and grab their bags from a place Draco had not seen them when he first walked in.

"See yuh 'round, Malfoy," Potter says, walking behind the couch so that he's no longer in Draco's sights.

"But hopefully not," Weasley adds with a smug smile, and then he disappears after Potter.

Draco hears the boys whispering and laughing to themselves as the door opens, but Potter must have kept on the silencing charm, because as soon as the door slams closed their sound completely dies away.

_**OoOoOoO**_

The instant that the door closes behind them, Harry says the first lie that comes to his head to be able to walk in the opposite direction as George:

"Oh, hey, I forgot, this is Snape's free period and he wanted to talk to me about occlumency for a few minutes. I'll meet you in your bedroom, alright?"

"Huh? Oh, alright," George says. "How long will that take?"

Harry shrugs. "Not very long at all, I don't think. We aren't scheduled to practice it until Saturday, at the earliest, and it's only Wednesday."

"Okay, we can decide what we'll tell everybody when you get back. There's still twenty minutes until all of the other classes are over."

Harry nods, and after a swift kiss goodbye (they had _not_ been done in the old classroom when Malfoy decided to burst in) they turn away and head in their opposite directions.

Harry gets to his end of the corridor first, so he waits behind the corner for thirty seconds before he's sure that George is long gone. He peers around cautiously, though, just in case, and when he sees and hears nothing he jumps around and runs both swiftly and silently back down the corridor to the door that he had just left. Without waiting to make sure nobody is watching he opens the door, jumps inside, and closes it shut behind him.

After putting on a locking charm (he left the silencing charm so nobody would hear Malfoy's calls for help when the Body-Binding Curse wore off) he skips his way over to the couch with an evil smile to see the gray eyed boy still lying on the couch in the same planked-position.

Harry whispers the words to get Malfoy out of the curse, and the instant that it's removed he starts to struggle against the ropes at the same time he says, "_Merlin_, you horrible, evil, sick-humored little cockroach!" And then he ups his insults to curse words, but Harry only laughs loudly at him.

"Oh, shut up, Malfoy," he says, pinching the white haired boys lips closed with his fingers. "You're completely at my mercy here, and threatening me with cuss words and other forms of speaking is not going to help you."

Malfoy gives him a glare that puts his_ own_ heart-stopping glare to shame, and Harry quickly releases his lips before he's bitten.

"Why did you keep it secret?" Malfoy asks after struggling for a few more silent seconds against the ropes and eventually giving up. "What's the point?"

"You are _not_ asking that question," Harry says, giving Malfoy a look that asks if he's stupid or not. "If anybody finds out that Harry Potter is _gay_? I already have _girls_ jumping on me that will only try harder to make me go straight, and then I'll also have _blokes_ asking me to things like the Yule Ball and giving me chocolate hearts on Valentine's Day! I mean, Gin—er, Ginny has been hinting that we should get together since she showed up here, and you have no idea how difficult it is to have to turn down the sister of the bloke you're snogging! She's like that stupid Basilisk, always coming back to try and destr—ouch, sorry!" Harry says suddenly, for he had lost himself in speaking and sat right on Malfoy's feet by mistake, causing the tips of his shoes to jab sharply against his arse.

And then he realizes that he just said sorry to Malfoy. He starts to open his mouth with something witty to explain it, but he decides to pretend it didn't happen in hopes Malfoy didn't notice.

"Here, I'm going to let you out of the ropes only long enough for you to sit up so I can sit down, too," Harry says, backing up a ways so there's enough space that he can stop Malfoy if he tries to lunge at him when he lets him go.

Malfoy blinks at him in confusion, and then says, "Whatever."

Harry silently curses himself because he's sure that Malfoy's confusion is because he apologized to him and not his request.

He whispers the counter curse to the ropes, and they slide away from Malfoy so that he's free. Before the shaky Gryffindor swings into a sitting position with his feet on the ground, he leans up and stretches down to touch his toes.

"I'm watching your every move," Harry says.

"Yeah, yeah, let me stretch, it's not going to kill you."

About fifteen achingly slow seconds later, Draco swings his legs off of the couch and looks at Harry expectedly. Why he's not even attempting to run is beyond Harry.

The dark-haired Slytherin flicks his wand and the ropes jump back around Malfoy's body, and then he crosses the room and flops onto the couch with a large sigh.

"Mind if I stretch out and put my feet on your lap?" Harry asks Malfoy without a thought to how weird the question would be.

Malfoy snorts. "You've got me bound to a couch and you're asking me if I care about your feet being on my lap or not?"

Harry curses himself again. "Well, if you put it that way," he says out loud, and he swings to the side so that his feet land with a soft thump against the black trousers of the pale skinned boys thighs.

Malfoy rolls his eyes. "Will you at least take your other shoe off so your heel isn't digging into my leg?"

"Sure," Harry says, moving his foot up so that he can pull his shoe off without untying it, and then throwing it to join his other. "My payment to you for making you listen to my problems."

"Yeah, thanks, I feel richer already," Malfoy says with another roll of his eyes.

"I can put it back on, you know…"

"No, no, this is good!" Malfoy pulls against the ropes lightly with his wrists and ankles before giving up again.

"I don't understand why you keep trying to get away," Harry says, sinking lower into the couch so that his feet are resting on the far armchair and his calves are on Malfoy's lap instead. "I've bound George before so he'll let me play with his hair, and if he can't get out of my ropes then you _definitely_ can't."

Malfoy frowns. "Are you saying that I'm weak?"

Harry shakes his head no. "I was just stating the obvious. If George, who is in his seventh year, can't do it, then you can't do it. I couldn't do it either."

"But you think I am. Weak, I mean." It wasn't a question.

"I think I'm stronger than you, yes, but not that you're weak."

"And how do you _know_ that you're stronger than me?"

Harry laughs loudly. "Malfoy, please, just because you're taller than me by a few inches doesn't mean that you're stronger. I'm a lot…brawnier than you. Anybody can tell that by looks."

Malfoy sighs. "It doesn't really matter… Wizards don't exactly do much hand to hand combat."

"Good point."

They sit in silence for a few moments, in which time Harry puts his hands behind his head and leans it against his own armrest, closing his eyes to take in the feeling of Malfoy's thighs beneath his own legs. Only George knew about the crush that Harry has had on Malfoy since year one (which is why he laughed when Harry mentioned love earlier on), and he doesn't much care if the Gryffindor finds out about it at this time. Now that Malfoy knows Harry is gay, he would tell him if he had feelings for him, right? Because now he knows they have a chance together?

Well, no, that's not true… If Harry told him that he had been wanting that to happen since the beginning he would either say something about his being gay as well and wanting to get together, or he would puke all over their legs since he can't lean far enough away from the couch to empty his stomach on the floor.

Besides, they're from rival Houses. Nothing will ever and _is_ never going to happen between them, so Harry will say absolutely _nothing_.

"So, what about the littlest Weasley being a Basilisk?" Malfoy says quietly, and when Harry peaks through one eye he sees that the other boy is staring down at his legs upon his own.

"Oh yeah," Harry says with a chuckle. "I was saying she was like a Basilisk that always comes back to destroy me, because she always comes back and it's slowly destroying me. I don't want to tell her that I'm gay, though, because Slytherin's are not very good at keeping secrets unless someone is blackmailing them, and the only thing I have on her is the fact that she sometimes wears this pair of white underwear she coated Dark Marks all over with."

Malfoy laughs loudly, and Harry opens his eyes completely to watch the other boys own eyes close and the ends of his mouth to turn up and almost reach his eyes. When he finishes laughing he leans his head down and wipes his tears away with his hands. "That's pretty good if you ask me," he finally says, looking over at Harry with a smile. "Not near enough to keep your being gay hidden, but if anybody against You-Know-Who found out about that she'd be in serious trouble. Dumbledore, for instance. He'd have a cow if…" Malfoy trails off, and Harry can almost hear something click in his brain. "Uh, how did you know that that's what her underwear looks like…?"

Harry snorts. "George told me."

"Uh, _why_ did George tell you that?"

"I don't know if I remember right, but it was pretty recent that I found out…over this most recent summer… I was over at his house, and I almost accidentally walked in on Gin getting out of the shower… She hexed me like you can't believe, and after George rescued me he said it was probably so I wouldn't see her underwear. At least, that's how I remember it; it's all kind of…fuzzy."

And at that precise moment Malfoy's watch starts to beep.

"Classes are over," Malfoy says simply.

"Shit!" Harry screams, leaping to a standing position. He forgot all about George!

"What's wrong?" Malfoy ask frantically, but without any further explanation Harry destroys all evidence of his work in this room with a single whispered word (which means the ropes leap away from Malfoy and both charms disappear from the door) and sprints out of the door.

_**OoOoOoO**_

Draco remains sitting on the couch, staring out of the open door for about twelve more seconds before he too jumps up to get out of the room. He's had enough of this place for a long time.

After he grabs his bag he listens for any voices or footsteps before jumping out and shutting the door behind him, and then he takes off at a dead run to get back to the Gryffindor common room.

It isn't so he can quick tell his friends that Potter is gay and the oldest Weasley attending Hogwarts is bisexual or even that the youngest Weasley wears Dark Mark underwear, but so that he can get to his bed before anybody who cares about him shows up there to look for him so that he can pretend he wasn't feeling well the entire time.

Because Draco isn't going to breathe a word about anything Potter and Weasley have told him. It's his own little secret now, and maybe he could use it for blackmail later on. Although it is all quite ineffective information, because the two Slytherin boys were planning on letting him tell the world anyway, and all the female Slytherin would have to do is flick her wand to make the marks on her underwear disappear.

But that doesn't lower his spirits, for he's quite excited with the information he had just learned. The oldest Weasley is competition, but he'll be gone by next year anyway. The youngest Weasley is not competition, who Draco thought was. And Potter is gay—and no matter the fact that they will never be together, Draco feels light as a feather at the fact that he's learned a secret of Potter's at all.

_**OoOoOoO**_

_A few months later…_

It's in the middle of the Great Hall when it happens; when the two Weasley boys are reunited to crash down upon a common enemy. And the common enemy of George and Fred is Headmistress Dolores Umbridge.

The boys had broken out into a duel on top of the dining tables, and not even any of the professors have yet to be able to stop them. Now they're flying up in the rafters with the brooms they had summoned long ago.

"_Confringo_!" Fred bellows, but his flash of light crashes into the same spell that's cast by George.

They continue to whirl around each other, shouting things like "_Diffindo_!" and "_Expulso_!" and "_Incendio_!" The twins are long past simple spells such as _Expelliarmus_ and _Densaugeo_—they're aiming for pain, now.

And then, suddenly, a spell breaks through the other's defenses:

"_Petrificus Totalus_!" Umbridge bellows, and Fred snaps rigid as a board. Being on a broom, Fred can no longer hold on. The students below watch in horror as he falls, headfirst, towards the skull-cracking stone floor. Harry doesn't even like the bloke, but he's terrified for what's going to happen. Fred can't die; George needs him…

"NO!" George bellows at the same time that all of the teachers aside from Snape rise to use their wands to bring Fred down lightly, but with a flick of Umbridge's own wand their spells are ineffective.

The evil toad wants Fred to fall—to die at this height to a stone floor—and George won't have it. Not to his only love. Harry knows that.

He streaks straight down on his broom faster than Harry ever has; so fast that Umbridge doesn't have time to even contemplate acting. He catches Fred _centimeters_ from crashing against the stone floor of the Great Hall, leaping off his broom because there's no way they wouldn't crash and nearly die anyway against the stone. The way George leaps off causes the twins to roll and roll and_ roll_ until they crash awkwardly into the wall beside the Ravenclaw table.

George recovers instantly, pushing his flaming red hair out of his eyes and crawling over to his younger twin. He whispers the counter-spell to the Body-Binding Curse, and the only thing that Fred does is slump out, unconscious, beside his brother.

"_Fred_!" George says, tears beginning to pour down his face. "Re-ren-_rennervate_!" he sobs, and nothing happens because of his stutters. The first students to rush to their sides are Harry and Neville for George, and Malfoy and the youngest Weasley boy for Fred.

George swallows and says, "_Rennervate_!" as steady as he can.

Fred groans loudly enough for it to echo off all of the walls before he opens his eyes to nothing more than slits.

"Fred!" George sobs happily, and he bends down and gathers his brother into his arms and continues to sob tears into his chest. Fred begins to cough, but it quickly turns into sobs as well.

Harry smiles happily at them, a conversation taking place long ago in his second year swirling around inside of his brain…

…  
**_FLASHBACK_**  
…

"_So who do you like, anyway?" George asks him._

"_No WAY am I going to tell you," Harry says, his laughter rippling over the lake._

"_Oh, come on! If you tell me I'll tell you who I like."_

_Harry stops laughing and blinks at him. "Really?"_

_George nods._

"_Promise?"_

"_On my honor of being a Slytherin."_

"_That sentence gives no comfort."_

"_How about my being a Weasley, then?"_

"_Are you joking?"_

_George chuckles. "Alright, alright, on my honor of being a FELLOW Slytherin, then?_

"_That one I can do."_

"_Deal, then?"_

"_Deal."_

_They shake on it._

"_I'm gay," Harry says. "So gay I don't even like flying my broom straight—so being a Seeker is not always the best thing in the world, since I have to dive straight down a lot. Anyway, I've been this way since I was eight, and I've had a good sized crush on another boy who goes to school here with us since I saw him. I bet you'll never guess, either."_

"_Neville?" George asks with a raised eyebrow._

"_No, Neville's not my type. He's a great friend, but that's as far as I'd like it to go."_

"_Greg?"_

"_You're way off. He's not in our House."_

_George's eyes widen. "You do NOT like Ron! That's disgusting!"_

_Harry bursts into loud laughter. "No, I do not like any Weasley's. It's Draco Malfoy, alright? You know, the one with the blond hair that might as well be white?"_

_George puts on a knowing smile and a single cocked eyebrow. "No wonder you try to make his life miserable. I'm a pro at that, I should have guessed."_

_Harry bites his bottom lip and nods._

_George laughs for a couple of seconds, and then says, "Well, I owe you my own explanation then, don't I?"_

"_You do indeed," Harry says._

_George takes a deep, deep breath. "I'm not gay, but I'm not straight, but I'm not—well, I'm not anything. I've only ever looked at one person in the way that I do; I've only ever loved one person…"_

"_Go on," Harry says quietly._

"_Since I was thirteen years old I've been in love with my brother—not Ron, Bill, Charlie, or Percy. I've been in love with Fred."_

_Harry chuckles. It makes his inside squirm a little, knowing that his best friend (before Neville, then Hermione, and then Greg) loves his own TWIN, but hey, whatever floats his boat. "You know, I never would have guessed that. You're really good at making it seem like you hate him."_

_George nods. "I really did hate him for a few of years…you know, back when I turned ten and I started to try and ruin his and the rest of the family's lives and whatnot. But then, it was the summer before third year. I had stubbornly refused to even LOOK at him for the past two years while at Hogwarts, including the train ride there and back, plus the car ride home. But we still have to share a room, so I was forced to look at him when it was time to go to bed. We both did our best to avoid each other, so before we actually crawled into our separate beds we went to wash up. I took my first shower, getting dressed in the bathroom, and when I came back I closed my eyes as Fred went passed me to take his own. I was almost asleep when he came back into the room, flooding the room with light from the light in the hallway. And then…_

"_I saw him standing there, in nothing more but a towel wrapped loosely around his waist, and his hair all wet and sticking out everywhere. I remember staring at him with a gaping mouth until he grabbed the clothes he was going to change into and left to go back to the bathroom. I got meaner, then, because I wanted to make sure that he thought he only just imagined me staring wide eyed and jaw dropped at his…his body. My secret infatuation progressed over time, and here we are now."_

_Harry smiles at George. "So if I asked you if you were really good looking, what would you say?"_

_George's own laughter ripples over the water of the Black Lake. "Well, I'd have to say I was one of the best looking blokes you'd ever meet, wouldn't I?"_

….  
**END FLASHBACK**  
….

Harry's mind exits his old memories and he continues to smile down at his best friend and his best friend's brother.

"I'm so sorry, Fred," George says as he pulls his face away from Fred's chest, tears no longer streaming but only the remains of them sticking to his face.

"Me too, George," Fred whispers, looking the same as his twin—the _exact_ same.

And with a sudden giggle from his own lips, Harry knows exactly what's about to happen. And it does.

George and Fred launch at each other at the exact same instant, and their lips mash together in such a fervent manner that they both topple onto their sides. The students standing closest (apart from Harry and Malfoy) jump away laughing, screaming, _or_ trying to hold back their food.

The teachers eventually _can_ intervene here, and they do, Snape pulling George and McGonagall pulling Fred.

"Freddie, I—" George starts to say, but Fred cuts him off: "I love you, Georgie. Since third year!"

And that's all that George needs to gain his ultimate strength. He launches out of Snape's hands and picks up his wand from the spot that he crashed into the wall, and before anybody can do anything else he stuns McGonagall so that Fred leaps out of his grip and dives for his own wand in the middle of the Great Hall. Stunning and disarming spells are flying around the entire room, but the two twins have summoned their brooms and hopped on top of them long before anybody can hit them.

They circle around in the enchanted part of the ceiling for a little while, making faces at all of the teachers, and then Harry hears Fred distinctly say, "We've never thought an education would be good for us, anyway."

"Not even when we were still inside mum," George adds. "Oh, Freddie, I love you. Let's get out of here."

"One more thing…" Fred zips down and shouts "_Expelliarmus_!" at a wide eyed Umbridge, whose wand goes flying.

"Let me help!" George says, and he zips down after his brother with his wand pointing at Umbridge and says, "_Densaugeo_!" and Umbridge's teeth grow so large so fast that she topples over the teachers dining table and lands flat on her face in front of it. The entire Great Hall (including some of the teachers) bursts into loud laughter, and Harry looks up to see George give him a wink.

And then the two boys—the twins, both put into opposite Houses, who were so long enemies when it was so unneeded—blast the back wall of the Great Hall so that there's a hole the size of two Hagrid's and fly out of it, their fingers linked tightly together and their whoops of joy seen and heard all the way past the mountains.

_**OoOoOoO**_

When the twins are finally out of sight, Draco gives a small jump when he realizes that he's standing right beside Potter. He knew vaguely that he was there earlier, but it wasn't important enough to acknowledge it even in his own head. But he remembers the dark haired boys face when the twins were still sobbing into each other. The kind of look that suggests he knew something that nobody else did…

"Potter," Draco says, turning around so that he's standing in front of him.

Potter is so taken aback that he falls backwards onto the ground, but he jumps back up instantly.

"Malfoy," he says with a curt nod. (_He's sure to have realized nobody knows about his being gay yet_, Draco thinks. _I wonder what he's thinking_.) "What do you want?"

"You knew," Draco says simply.

But Potter obviously knows what he means, because he nods. "I learned a long time ago."

"But you're both Slytherin's. Slytherin's don't trust each other with anything." (Potter rolls his eyes at this sentence. Obviously Slytherin's do indeed trust each other, or…something.) "Why did he tell you?"

"Actually," Harry says with a smug smile, "Slytherin's trust each other with our lives. It's the little things we try to keep for ourselves. But I'm very close to George—you know that. We've told each other everything."

"You mean, you told him who you like as well?"

But all Potter does is wink, and then he walks away, leaving Draco to stand there in confusion.

OoOoOoO

_Many months later…_

It was the end of Harry's fifth year adventures. After Sirius had been killed in the Department of Mysteries. After Harry had learned from Dumbledore the prophecy that made it known to him why the Dark Lord wanted him dead. After he and his five companions had come home and taken up lives in the hospital wing. After Harry had gotten up and left Neville, Hermione, Gin, and Greg with an excuse to go to the bathroom.

"Potter!" Malfoy yells when he turns a corner a few yards ahead of Harry, so Harry pulls out his wand and aims it steadily at the Gryffindor boy that was older than him by hardly more than a month.

"You put him in Azkaban!" Malfoy says in a frantically sad kind of way—and he didn't pull his own wand out, much to Harry's confusion. "I didn't"—he grits his teeth and closes his eyes tightly, and Harry knows that he's trying to hold back tears because he does the same thing. When he opens his eyes again he continues: "I want to apologize for him."

Harry snorts. "Your dad tried to _kill_ me and my friends! His goody-two-shoes son can't make that better!"

Malfoy lifts his arm and pressed his sleeve firmly against his eyes for a slightly lengthy moment, and when he pulls it away his sleeve is wet and his eyes are blotchy.

"Can you please put your wand away, Harry?"

Harry's jaw drops. Harry. Malfoy called him Harry. The shock of it causes him to accept Malfoy's request, and he sticks his wand back into his robes.

"Malfoy, are you okay?" Harry asks quietly. He knows it's a stupid question, but he doesn't know what else to say.

"No!" Malfoy screeches, and his tears start to pour freely down his face.

Harry walks forward with his arms outstretched—and is pushed suddenly aside by Neville. It seems that Neville's followed Harry, because here he is now.

"Harry, what are you _doing_?" Neville asks loudly. "It's _Draco Malfoy_! A Gryffindor! A stupid, pathetic, _Gryffindor_!"

"Ow, Neville, get off me!" Harry yells. "He's only apologizing to me on behalf of his father!"

"You were going to hug him!" Neville shouts, and as Harry realizes that Neville is completely right a new strength surges through him, and he throws his friend off of him in one swift movement. He leaps into a standing position and looks at Malfoy with blazing eyes, and Malfoy bursts into loud, body-shaking sobs. And then, before Harry or Neville can do anything else he turns around and sprints away, his cloak and robes fluttering darkly after him.

"Now look what you've done!" Harry growls to Neville. "I was _not_ going to _hug_ him. I was going to _hex_ him. How could you even _suggest_ something so _disgusting_?"

"Year two!" Neville says angrily, jumping to a standing position beside Harry.

"What about it?" Harry asks with narrowed eyes.

"When you, Hermione, Greg, and I ran into Malfoy in the deserted corridor and chased him into one filled with doors. You remember how I remembered that I left a book back in the Astronomy Tower?"

Harry nods slowly. He barely remembers it, but he does.

"I lied! I waited there, around the corner that you and the other two walked away from. And do you know what, Harry? The third door that _you_ checked opened, and out came Malfoy, sprinting away as fast as he could to get back to his common room. And I checked that room, Harry. There were no hiding places. That means that you _let _Malfoy go."

Harry's blood turns to ice. Neville had done _what_?

"Year three!" Neville continues. "When Malfoy was slashed on the arm by the Hippogriff, you were the first person at his side, and you asked if he was _alright_. Granted, you quickly added that you would have to hurt him yourself if he was—and I must admit that that was a brilliant save."

Harry opens his mouth to protest, but Neville continues: "Year four! Draco was the first one to you when you came back with Cedric Diggory, and the way you looked down there, where nobody could hear you, it looked like he was asking if you were okay. And when all of the teachers pushed Malfoy aside, you both went wild, screaming to _bring him back_ and to _let me stay_. Anybody in a ten mile radius could have heard your protests!"

Harry's eyes widen. He had said all of those things out _loud_?

"Year five—this year!" Neville continues. "The day that George and his twin left Hogwarts on their brooms, Malfoy confronted you, and you _winked_ at him! Why, Harry? What is going on with you that you haven't told me?"

Harry doesn't know what to say—doesn't want to say anything—so he bursts into laughter. Loud, maniacal laughter. So crazy is his laughter that tears start to stream from his eyes, and suddenly his tears of laughter turn to tears of sadness and pain, and he crumples to the ground.

"Harry!" Neville says frantically, kneeling beside him. "Harry, it's okay!"

"Go away, Neville," Harry says around his onslaught of tears, pushing the fellow Slytherin away. "I want to die."

"Harry, no you—"

"I said go away!" Harry uses the wall to get himself into a standing position. "I need to sort things out on my own!"

"Of course you do," Neville says, standing up with him. "And I'm going to help you."

"Neville, don't—"

"Come on, we'll take you back to Madam—"

"Neville, leave me alone!" Harry starts to back away from Neville. "Please, just—"

"Harry, something is wrong with you, and I'm not going to let you alone until—"

"DO YOU WANT TO _DIE_?" Harry screeches, and before Neville can answer he whips out his wand and screams, "_STUPEFY_!" Neville is blasted backwards and against a wall, and before anybody can come and see what's happened, Harry spins around and sprints as fast as possible. His aim is the lake; he'll hide behind his favorite bush at the lake. Yes, it's brilliant. Nobody will find him there.

_**OoOoOoO**_

Draco finally stops crying, and he uses his already soaked sleeves to wipe away the tear remnants and part of his runny nose. He hasn't cried in a long time, and if it wasn't for the fact that he's so sad and also terrified _because of_ and _of_ his father, he would be embarrassed of the fact that he had broken down in front of both Harry and Longbottom.

He had run away as fast as he could when he saw the anger in Harry's eyes after he had been tackled, and the place that he eventually stumbled upon was a hidden place beside the lake. It's a large bush that curves around just right that nobody is able to see him unless they walk around the bush behind him, stood exactly across from him on the other side of the lake, or if they were above him. And that isn't going to happen, because there are plenty of other places somebody would go to hide. Nobody will find him here when it's such a place that nobody will even think of.

And then the unthinkable happens: "Malfoy? Is that...is that you?"

Draco whirls around so fast that he topples over to the side and almost dips an arm into the lake.

The green-eyed boy is by his side in an instant, pulling him away from the black waters.

"Harry!" Draco sputters. "Harry, what are—I mean, why—and how! You're not supposed to be here! I wanted to be alone! How did you find me?"

"I didn't know you'd be here!" Harry says, letting go of Draco and taking a few steps away. "I came here to be alone, too, but then I saw you! I thought only I knew about this place..."

Draco shakes his head. "No, I've been here a few times before. I thought only _I_ knew about it."

"Well, I guess that's not the case," Harry says quietly, looking straight into Draco's eyes.

"Yeah, I guess not," Draco says, averting his own. "I'm sorry about everything before. I mean, when I was apologizing for my father. You now, before Longbottom leapt out and tackled you. I know nothing I say will change your outlook on what happened, and I know that it was my aunt that killed your godfather, and I know that—"

"Draco..," Harry says in quiet interruption.

"Oh, yes?" Draco says, smiling ever so slightly at the brilliantly green-eyed boy. _His eyes matched his House colour..._ Draco thinks. _I've never noticed that before. How nice..._

"Draco," Harry says again, this time louder, but still in a whisper.

"I said that I was listening, Harry," Draco says, tilting his head slightly. "Are you going to tell me or just keep repeating my name?"

"My name," Harry repeats. "You said my name."

Draco tilts his head farther. "Yes, and you said mine. What exactly are you getting at?"

"Draco!" Harry says, this time so loudly that Draco goes absolutely silent without even acknowledging his name being shouted.

"Will you say it again?" Harry asks, again quietly.

"Say what again?" Draco asks just as quiet.

"My name."

"_Harry_, I don't und—"

_**OoOoOoO**_

Harry launches himself at the Gryffindor so fast that Draco doesn't even have time to stop his sentence himself. Instead, Harry's lips do the stopping, pressing tightly to Draco's. Draco is a few inches taller than Harry, and they melt against each other. Harry's left hand grips tightly to Draco's side, and his other is tangled in Draco's hair, holding the other boy to him. Draco's hands are in fists against Harry's chest, gripping tightly to handfuls of his shirt.

Their lips break apart a long moment later, and they just stare into each other's eyes, their breathing heavy.

"Since year one," Harry whispers.

"R-really?" Draco whispers back.

Harry nods.

"M-me, too."

Harry blinks steadily at the gray-eyed boy. "You mean to tell me, that _all_ these five years, where we could have been hanging out and fighting Voldemort and _making out_, we were mortal enemies?" Harry untangles his hand from Draco's hair and grips the other side of his waist. "We are complete and total _idiots_."

Draco trembles beneath his touch.

"What were you _possibly_ thinking when you walked in on George and I, near the beginning of the year?" Harry asks, pressing his forehead to the taller boys.

"A lot of things," Draco whispers.

"Well, whatever it all was, I'm—"

Draco leans forward and silences Harry with a kiss, and Harry happily obliges.

Minutes later, Harry is on his back on the ground with Draco kneeling above him, his hands on both sides of his face. Harry's hands are tracing the plans of Draco's chest through his thin jumper, and his legs are wrapped tightly around his waist so that their groins are pressed tightly into the others.

"Draco," Harry moans as Draco creates marks all over his neck.

But suddenly Draco pushes himself off of Harry, causing Harry's legs to unhook from his waist. Draco lands a few feet away and Harry sits up and stares with wide, confused eyes at the other boy, both breathing heavily.

"Draco," Harry says, this time in a questioning way. "Why are you—"

"I'm scared, Harry," Draco whispers.

Harry sighs with a small smile on his face. "Come back," he says, opening his arms out to him. "We can just sit here. I'm scared, too, but we'll get passed it. I'm sure we—"

"Longbottom _tackled_ you," Draco whispers. "What will Granger, Goyle, Vince, Pansy, and the two Weasley's do? Something worse, or will they accept it?"

Harry lowers his arms. "I guess...I don't really know. But I know that Neville's just hurt that I haven't said anything to him about it all of these years. He told me he's been watching us since about year two; Neville cares about me more than anybody else at Hogwarts."

Draco looks down and frowns at the grass. "Sure he does."

"Draco, wait, I didn't mean it that way. You've got to give me a while to get used to this; only a few minutes ago did I learn that you didn't completely hate me."

Draco looks back up, the frown gone. "Yeah, alright. But, Harry, I...I don't think Ron will like it, and I know Pansy won't... And what will the little Weasley do? I don't think she'll like it, either."

Harry sighs again. "Draco, I don't care what they're going to do. I've been waiting five _years_ for this. I just want to be with you."

"But _I_ care what they're going to do!" Draco protests. "They're my friends, and I don't want to lose them!"

"Well, we can keep it secret, if you want."

"Secrets are not exactly something that Hogwarts enjoys people having..."

"I kept my secret all this time, though, didn't I? And so did George and Fred! Why can't we keep this a secret?"

"Because I don't want it to be a secret!" Draco says, pushing his fingers through his hair. "I want to...ARGH!" He leans forward and bangs his head against the ground.

Harry launches himself by his side in an instant, lifting his head away from the ground and rubbing the dirt away from his forehead.

"What, Draco?" Harry asks quietly. "What do you want?"

"I don't know!" Draco says, leaning against Harry, broth wrapping their arms around each other. "I know that everybody will find out, and that means that my mother will find out, which then means that my father will find out—and I _know_ that my father will break out of Azkaban_ just_ to punish me for being _gay_ with the _Boy Who Lived_. And he'll punish you, too, more than he already has!"

Harry sighs again. "Then what do you propose we do?"

"Nothing," Draco whispers, and the next thing Harry knows, Draco has his wand pointing at Harry's chest.

"Draco, what are you—"

"_Incarcerous_," Draco says with fresh tears in his eyes, and Harry is blown back to the bush where tight ropes made from the vines of the plant start to wrap themselves rightly around his arms and legs and his chest.

"Draco!" Harry yells, struggling against the vines.

"I've bound Fred before," Draco says, his voice slightly distorted by the onslaught of tears streaming down his face. "When he was sixteen, and if an almost grown man can't get out, then you can't."

Harry cringes at Draco's choice of words; it's almost exactly how he had said it months ago. "Draco, please," Harry says, deciding it is indeed pointless to struggle.

"They'll go away in an hour's time," Draco whispers. "I'm sorry, Harry. I can't do this yet. I'm just...I'm so scared, because..." He trails off.

"Why, Draco?" Harry asks, making sure his voice sounds as pained as possible—which isn't very hard, because he's _very_ pained. First he lost his parents, then Cedric, then Sirius...and now he's losing Draco? No, Harry can't lose him. He _loves_ him.

"Because, Harry," Draco says, closing his eyes tightly. "I told you why. And...and..."

"And _what_?"

"Because I think I'm in love with you."

And then, streams glistening down his cheeks like waterfalls, the white haired—the gray eyed—the older—the taller—the Gryffindor turns away from Harry and disappears behind the bush without glancing back.

Harry breaks into loud, harsh sobs, leaning against the vines for support, because he has none left. And even though there isn't much else to live for, Harry doesn't want to die, because he's anchored to a certain one of Draco's many words of goodbye. It wasn't "I love you", though those had sent butterflies through Harry's stomach...no, it was something else.

It was only a single word.

"_I can't do this yet_."

Yet.

Draco will be back for him.

* * *

References: 1. _"I said go away!" Harry uses the wall to get himself into a standing position. "I need to sort things out on my own!"  
"Of course you do," Neville says, standing up with him. "And I'm going to help you."_

These lines are from _The Fellowship of the Ring_ movie, I just changed it a bit. The original lines are: Frodo: "I'm going to Mordor alone, Sam."  
Sam: "Of course you are. And I'm coming with you."

2. Professor Trelawney would just ask him why he was late, and Draco would roll his eyes at her sight abilities and say, "A student of the divine art is never late, Professor Trelawney. Nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to."  
These lines are from The Fellowship of the Ring movie, I just changed it a bit. The original lines are: Frodo: "Your late."  
Gandalf: "A wizard is never late, Frodo Baggins. Nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to."  
I would have kept it as wizard, but considering that wizards are indeed late in my story, it would make it kind of awkward.

/

A/N: Alright, so remember in the prologue when the Sorting Hat's were going on about the twins and "had they figured it out yet"? Well, that was that they were secretly in love with each other! Just in case you didn't catch that. Yeah, I ship them.


	8. Year 5, Part II

**Year Five, Part II: Hush-Hush the Secrets with Your Little Cloak-And-Dagger**

Beginning chapter A/N's: This chapter is dedicated to creativity, and you will find out why at the A/N's at the end of this chapter :)

* * *

Draco's tears make it literally impossible for him to see anything clearly. He steps in the lake water twice on his way back to the castle, and by the time he gets into the Great Hall he's run into three suits of armor, twelve people, and seven walls.

He wants to get back to the Gryffindor common room, but he doesn't think he can make it in this state, so he collapses in one of the benches of the dining tables, placing his arms on the table and burying his face in them.

Groups of people come by and ask if he's alright, but he never even acknowledges any of them, and they all eventually go away to leave him alone.

But, after about ten minutes, a pair of arms Draco doesn't recognize wraps tightly around him. He lifts his head up to see a taller boy with flaming red hair. He still can't see straight, but he assumes who it is already:

"Ron?" he says, his voice coming out old and scratchy.

The figure nods, and Draco leans forward and wraps his arms so tightly around Ron that he's sure he's going to split him in half. But Ron doesn't seem to mind, and continues to hold Draco just as tightly.

"I need to get back to the bedroom," Draco eventually says, his eyes still wet and blurry. "Can you help me get there?"

Ron nods, and then he takes Draco's hand and leads him back to the common room.

"Password?" the Fat Lady asks.

Draco wipes shamelessly at his eyes, and Ron elbows him.

"_Furry putty_," Draco says quietly.

"Indeed," says the Fat Lady, and she swings open to reveal the portrait hole.

Draco and Ron clamber into it, and Ron leads Harry up the stairs and into the fifth year boy's bedroom.

"Ugh, I think I can finally see now," Draco says, wiping his face with his blankets. "Thanks a lot, Ron. Do you know where—" Draco cuts himself off with a sharp gasp, because it's not Ron who's standing in front of him.

It's George Weasley.

Draco sputters randomly, but he finally forms a coherent sentence: "What the hell?"

"Are you so much of a coward that you walk away from love?" Weasley asks sharply, glaring intently at Draco.

Draco bristles angrily. "How did you know about that?" he asks.

Weasley rolls his eyes, crosses his arms, and leans against the bedpost of Draco's bed. "I happen to be Harry's best friend—I also happen to be in love with one of _your_ best friends. My knowledge far surpasses what you'd assume. Now answer my question, you blithering idiot!"

Draco buries his face in his hands. "Yes! I'm scared, Weasley! I'm terrified!"

"Not nearly scared enough," Weasley growls. "I know what haunts you."

Draco pulls his face away from his hands to see Weasley crossing the room to him. He stumbles backwards to get away from him, but before he hardly even takes half a step Weasley's hand smacks him so hard across the face he topples over. His head cracks against the bed of Dean Thomas and he cries out in pain.

"There!" Weasley growls. "How do _you _like pain?"

Draco scrambles backwards away from Weasley, but Weasley doesn't advance on him, so Draco quick jumps up and sits down on the first bed he comes in contact with (Ron's).

"Is that all you came here to do?" he asks, rubbing the spot Weasley hit with one hand and where his head hit the bed with his other. "To abuse me because of my stupidity? It's not going to change anything, you know." Draco pulls his hands away from his head, sets them in his lap, and just looks at them. "As we've established, I am indeed a coward that is not fit for Gryffindor bravery. I need to...I don't know, talk to my parents or something. Mother will know what to do."

Weasley bursts into laughter. "_Your parents_? Lucius Malfoy, the _Death Eater_, and his _wife_? Malfoy, you can't be serious. If you told your You-Know-Who loving parents that you happen to be contemplating getting together with the _Boy_ Who Lived, you're _insane_! Forget being a coward—you're the bravest person I've ever met in my life!"

"Shut up!" Draco screams. "Shut up shut up shut up! Just because they want Harry dead doesn't mean they won't understand! I wasn't going to tell them his name, anyway. I'm not _that_ thick."

Weasley snorts. "Your dad will flail you alive, stupid."

Draco looks back down at his hands. "So?" he asks in a whisper. "I've got to do this; I've got to do _something_. I may be a coward, but I don't want to be one forever. I do want Harry, but I don't know what's going to happen if I give in right now. I love my family more than anything, and I want them to be proud of me…"

Weasley sighs, long and loud and deep, and then the bed dips under his weight as he crawls up beside Draco and takes his hands in his own.

"How _much_ do you want him?" he asks.

Despite himself Draco actually chuckles slightly. "Enough to tell my dad—which I really must admit is suicide—so a lot."

Weasley chuckles too, and then a silence washes over them like a blanket. Not an awkward silence, and not a deafening one, but a soft and completely welcomed and comfortable silence. They just sit there, looking at each other's hands.

Despite Draco being raised in a home of only graduated Slytherin's and house elves for servants and plain old sitting around doing nothing but the things he's wanted to do, his fingertips are really quite calloused. His second greatest secret, after something he refuses to even talk/think about to himself anymore, is that he likes to play an instrument called the harp. He keeps it secret because…well…just try and picture Ron's face when Draco asks him if he wants to listen to instrumental _harp_ music played by his truly. In Draco's opinion the harp is one of the "girliest" things he could play—that part doesn't bother him, because, being gay, he happens to like "girly" things—but what does bother him is the reactions others will have; if they'll call it girly. And you'd think a harp wouldn't give anyone calluses because you play it so soft, but because he plays it _all the time_ his fingertips are always rough. His summers, since being nine years old, have been completely dedicated to his harp. It's one of the kinds that stand on the ground and almost above your head, where you sit beside it on a stool and drag your fingers down and across it by stretching your arms to their limits. He's taken it and made up a harp version of the Hogwarts anthem in his third year, and he's played for his mother many a time. His father never listens in the same room, but Draco has overheard him asking his mother what song he had been playing. The fact that even a Death Eater—even his very proud, very straight, and very dignified father—had cared enough to secretly listen and compliment him had warmed his heart more than the sound of his music ever could; more than it ever would.

Weasley's hands are much the same, but instead of just his fingertips it's his entire hand. That doesn't surprise Draco at all; Weasley's tend to do a lot of labor work around their house, he's sure. He's tempted to ask about it, but he asks something else instead, in a whisper:

"Why are you here, George?" He doesn't mean to use the Weasel's first name, but it doesn't really matter. He has a feeling he'll need to start doing it rather often.

"To abuse you because of your stupidity, remember?" George says just as quietly.

"George, please."

"Fred and I are both here. It wasn't initially to talk to you and Harry—"

Draco's eyes bulge. "You're talking to Harry, too?"

"Shush and let me finish."

"Sorry."

"We first came here to check in on Gin and Ron. They're not answering our letters, so we decided to force our company upon them. They were actually thrilled to see us; apparently our letters weren't coming in thanks to Filch and Umbridge. Anyway, we hung around with the others until you came back inside. It took a moment to make our way through the castle without being spotted so we'd be thronged or thrown out, but I got to you and brought you here."

"How'd you know what all happened, though…?"

George laughs. "I am _never_ going to tell _you_ any of that particular secret—hell, I won't even tell Harry. This one's _just_ for me and Fred. Or, I suppose, if Fred wants to tell somebody, them too.

Draco rolls his eyes. "If you insist."

"Anyway," George continues, "Fred got Ron to guard this door. No, we didn't tell him anything. He trusts Fred more than anybody else in the world so he agreed without question. And then of course me and Gin are the same way, so Fred and her will go obtain Harry to talk to him about a few things when the hour is over."

"You can't just go free him yourself?"

"Your vines are too strong. Fright makes everything stronger…"

"Oh… I can make them break now, if you'd like."

George smiles. "Please do. I don't want him to get cold."

"It's nearly July. I think he'll be fine."

"No, he gets cold really easily. Trust me."

Draco nods. He pulls his hands from George's and pulls out his wand, concentrating hard on his hour-long spell. He's not there, but he knows the vines will let Harry go in the next five minutes; it's the thought that counts.

"Okay, it's good now. Should we go find Fred to let him know?"

George shakes his head. "He already knows."

Draco raises an eyebrow. "How, exactly?"

"Another secret of Fred's and mine," he replies with an impish grin.

Draco sighs with a smile as he puts his wand away and lays his hands back in his lap. "How much longer will you both be here?" he asks.

George shrugs. "Long enough to talk to both you and Harry. And I'm assuming you want to at least say hello to Fred?"

Draco nods.

"Well I want to see Harry, so however long that all takes, too."

"Speaking of which, why are you here talking to me, having the door guarded by Ron, instead of Fred being here?"

"Well, Ron is here because it's his House, and I'm here because talking to an enemy has always been so much more effective than being yelled at by a friend. This way it doesn't really hurt; it only gets it more solidly through your head."

"Then why is Fred going to Harry? He didn't do anything wrong…"

"I never said anything about it having to be something wrong. It works in reassuring somebody as well. Let's pretend you're still crying, and suddenly Gin rushes in here and tells you to buck up and go out and get your man back. Really, if it was a friend you'd push them away because you knew them well enough, but if they were an enemy you would want to prove to them that you _could_ do it by going out and doing it. It's really quite simple."

Draco nods. "And about Fred, how does he…um…know about all of this? I don't remember telling him about my liking those of the same sex or anything."

"Oh, he picked up on it sometime in your third year. 'Course, it was only a hunch at that time, but when we ditched earlier on this year I told him all about Harry—not on purpose, mind you, but that's another thing I can't explain to you, so don't ask—and a few things about you that I've learned_ from_ Harry and careful observation. You're very secretive, you know. Why is that, exactly?"

Draco shrugs. "It's not that I'm secretive… I just don't tell anybody anything unless they ask. I tend to just keep my mouth shut all the time."

"Can I ask a question, then?"

"Uh, sure."

"Why are the fingertips of a_ Malfoy_ so rough?"

Draco yanks his hands away from George's reach, and then he lies: "I'm clumsy; I burn them a lot."

_Wow, what a brilliant answer_, he thinks sarcastically. And then, not so sarcastically, _I'm an idiot._

George blinks skeptically. "What's around to get burned with?"

_Uh…_ "I cast the Flagrante Curse on a lot of my things and forget to take it off before I grab them."

"Oh, I see," George says with a happy nod.

But Draco knows that George doesn't believe him. He's always been a terrible liar, even to himself. He's only good at keeping secrets. Not necessarily on purpose; he just doesn't talk about himself unless directly asked. And because people are so afraid of what they'll hear, most of his secrets are untouched, unsaid, and un-listened.

_**OoOoOoO**_

Harry is awoken rudely by falling face-first into the grass. He had cried himself to sleep not ten minutes into his hour of being bound. He hadn't tried to struggle; he was too busy being weak from crying, and he was already _so tired_…

He had done many things in the last twenty-four hours with the help of Hermione, Gin, Greg, Neville, and Gin's good but insane friend (but always good for a laugh and an optimistic outlook) Luna Lovegood (a year younger Ravenclaw). It was her idea to ride the thestrals to the Ministry; her mind that had gotten them through the right door; her wand that had protected Harry from Lucius Malfoy for a moment long enough to protect himself. Even if she did believe in Nargles and Crumple Horned Snork-somethings, she got along with all of them really well. Except Hermione…Hermione kept it to herself when Luna is around, but she can't stand the girl.

Harry had helped the rest of the wizarding world find that Voldemort was again at large; he had helped get over half of the Death Eaters put into Azkaban; he had witnessed the death of his godfather, Sirius Black. They had never really gotten along very well, but they still loved each other, and yet another piece of Harry's heart had shattered when he saw the life drain from his godfather's eyes as he flew backwards and into the curtain of voices.

Hermione and Greg should still be in the hospital wing, Greg for being attacked by the stinging tentacles of brains and Hermione the Antonin Dolohov Curse (created by a now deceased Death Eater), which creates a streak of purple flame and causes serious injury without external symptoms. He had left those two, Neville, Greg, and Luna in the hospital wing with the excuse of going to the bathroom before he had first ran into Draco, before Neville had tackled him, and before had had run into Draco again.

Harry doesn't move right away, but when he finally pushes himself up he can't see anything straight.

"Oh, hell," he mutters. "Where'd my glasses go?" he feels around in the grass for quite a while, but he doesn't find them. _Great_, he thinks. _They must have slipped off somewhere while I was asleep._

Almost completely blind in the almost complete darkness, Harry stumbles back to the great Hogwarts castle. The way is memorized, for the most part, because he's seen it so many times—but he does step in the edge of the water a few times, soaking his shoes and socks.

He finally makes it inside; he has no idea the time, but there are blurry shapes of people watching him, so at least it's not passed curfew.

He's got a pretty good idea that he's halfway back to his Slytherin common room when a blurry figure with flaming orange Harry shows up before him.

"George?" Harry asks incredulously, and he's surprised how his voice sounds. He hadn't noticed it when he was alone, but now he hears how hoarse it is.

The figure nods.

"Oh, _George_." He falls forward and wraps his arms tightly around the red haired boy's waist. "I've never, ever been so happy to see somebody in my life. He—Draco—I"—He cuts himself off by biting down on his bottom lip and burying his face in George's chest.

_I will not cry_, he says to himself. _I will not cry_.

George wraps his arms around Harry's shoulders and says, "Shh…shh…" quietly into his ear.

"I lost my glasses somewhere," Harry says at length. "Can you help me back to the common room? I can't see a bloody thing straight."

George nods, and then detaches himself just enough that his arm is still around Harry's shoulders but they're let go enough to walk straight.

George steers Harry through the stairs and corridors until they're finally in the dungeons, standing before a blank stone wall that serves as the entrance to the Slytherin common room.

"I guess I'll have to say the password," Harry says, "since you don't go here anymore and therefore don't know it."

George nods with a tiny chuckle, and Harry looks up at him oddly. He's been acting odd since he first saw him only a few minutes ago. Not talking, and any noises are not quiet and…not George-like.

"You okay?" Harry asks him.

After an intense throat clearing, George says, "Yeah, I'm fine, I just don't want Umbridge to catch wind of me and my voice. Can we go inside now?"

_Well, now he sounds like George_, Harry thinks. _Stop worrying, stupid._

He turns back to the empty stone face and says, "Vital organs." The wall melts away to form a door and Harry and George head through it.

The common room looks pretty empty, as usual, because the Slytherin's almost _never_ come back before about an hour after curfew—and by then they all just go straight up to their rooms to either sleep or do homework. As much as everybody thinks Slytherin's are the dark, evil ones (which they are), they would rather be out in the sun. They also don't much like being in one place for too long; they don't like one place as a home. They move a lot, because they never know when the Dark Lord will come for them and their parents, and they move in packs because Slytherin's happen to trust the members of their House more than any other Houses ever could, and they trust each other to take care of each other. It's the little things, the things that don't matter, that they tend to keep to themselves.

"Harry, _George_!" a voice Harry recognizes as Gin's calls. "Filch is lugging back a whole group of first years who were on one of the restricted floors. I suggest you get up to the bedroom before he shows up and…well, _George_, you got this."

Harry notices that Gin puts an unnecessary amount of stress on George's name, for whatever purpose, he's not sure.

"Yeah, George, we better hurry," Harry says, taking George's hand and pulling him towards the stairs that lead to the fifth year boys' room. "If Filch sees you here he'll have a heart attack from joy at the thought of getting you in trouble with Dumbledore, since he's back but you're not supposed to be."

All three of them sprint up the stairs, but George shuts the door on Gin and then points his wand at it and puts a Silencing Charm on it so nobody can hear anything that goes on inside. Gin doesn't protest, so she must know that Harry's just…been through something…and just doesn't want her there.

"I just remembered," Harry says, going over to his trunk to get his extra glasses. "There's no need to be afraid of Umbridge, just Filch, because she's in the hospital wing after being attacked by the centaurs in the Forbidden Forest. Although I really doubt Dumbledore will do_ anything_ to you."

"Oh, I already knew that," George says. "It was just the first excuse that came to my head to explain why I wasn't talking. It's really quite hard mimicking George's voice, you know, even for me. I wasn't talking because you weren't supposed to know I'm not George until, well, now."

Harry freezes with his arms in midair with the glasses.

The voice does not belong to George.

He shoves the glasses on his face and whirls around to see—

"Fred?" he asks incredulously. "Why are—I mean—_what the hell_?" You'd think Harry would be mad, but he's more just surprised. He hadn't liked Fred, still doesn't, but if he had to like another Weasley it'd be him. Plus he's his best friend's boyfriend, so he's got too actually like Fred some time, right?

"George is with Draco," Fred says quickly, his words pouring out of his lips too fast so that he stumbles over them a little. "Yelling at him for leaving you. That's why I'm here instead of him. And Ron and Gin are in on it, too, but they don't know anything. They're just guarding the doors."

Harry leans back and collapses onto his bed. "I knew you weren't George! Honestly, whoever thought of giving the Boy Who Lived And Is Constantly In Danger a need for glasses needs to _die_."

Fred frowns at him. "There are three-hundred-million things you could have replies with, and you make a joke about your eyes."

"Alright, fine," Harry says with his own frown. "How do you know about what happened with Draco and me? Did he come back and tell you? And why are you here in the first place; is it just for this purpose or is there something greater? And how on earth did you get your voice to sound exactly like George's! Curse you being his twin!"

"To answer your first two questions," Fred says, "No, Draco did not come and tell us everything. We knew what was happening while it was happening."

Harry blinks at him. "What? How?"

"Do you remember when George kissed you for the first time?"

As awkward as that question is coming from George's current boyfriend, yes, Harry remembers it vividly, despite the fact that he had been drinking at the time. It was in his third year, after Peter Pettigrew had fled and after Sirius had flown away on the very same hippogriff that had slashed Draco's arm. Harry had been in this very room, all alone. Well, alone at first…

…  
**_FLASHBACK_**  
…

_A sharp knock sounds on the door. Harry looks up from his Transfiguration homework and quickly shoves the almost empty flask of very watered down vodka under his pillow. It isn't that he didn't want whoever it was not to know he was illegally drinking…he just didn't want to share. Plus, imagine the look on Gin's face when she, the heaviest drinker in their group, learned that Harry couldn't even stomach the stuff straight._

"_Uh, come in?" he calls. Why would anybody knock on a door that belonged to four different boys, Neville, Greg, Blaise Zabini, and he himself. It MUST be Gin being careful not to walk in on Harry in case he was still getting dressed from his rather recent bath._

_But the door swings open not to reveal the YOUNGEST Weasley attending Hogwarts, but the OLDEST._

"_Oh, hello, Gorge," Harry says with a smile. No, wait, that sounded wrong… "No need tuh knock, yuh know."_

"_Actually, my name happens to be GEORGE," George says, closing the door behind him. "But I suppose if you must call be after a chasm then I will accept it."_

"_I knew I said sumpin wrong."_

"_Drunk AGAIN, Harry?" George asks reprovingly, crossing the room and sitting on the bed beside him._

_Harry's tempted to try and lie to George, but decides against it. George ALWAYS calls Harry on his lies; he always caught him. And honestly, he was completely okay with it. He tells George everything anyway._

"_A little," Harry admits. "You know I'm a total lightweight."_

"_Yeah," George chuckles. "Yeah, I do. Is it the usual?"_

"_You mean am I drinkin' vodka with mo' water than alcohol? Yes, the usual."_

_Without a words George reaches under Harry's pillow and pulls out the flask. "And for how much you've already had, you're not as drink as usual. I think all of this 'practice' is really paying off."_

"_Oh goody," Harry says, taking the flask from George and downing the last of it in one fell swoop. He pushes the empty flask back under his pillow. "Wanna help me with my 'figuration papers?"_

_George leans over to look at the papers in Harry's lap. "Harry," he says quietly. "Those are overdue Astronomy notes."_

_Harry blinks at the papers. "Oh. Well. No wonder I wasn't getting any of it right."_

"_Alright, no more homework for tonight."_

_They push the papers into Harry's trunk in a disorganized heap._

"_What's the time?" Harry asks._

"_You have a watch," George answers._

_Harry looks down at it and only manages to see the snake in the background of it._

"_I can't read it. The hands are too thin."_

"_Merlin, you are not that drunk. Give me your wrist."_

_Harry does, and George reads the time out loud: "Seven-forty-two. Huh, you usually don't pull out the vodka till at least nine. And what were you thinking, doing homework before Hermione came in to help Greg with his? I mean REALLY."_

_He looks back up at Harry, who's staring down at the place that George is holding on his wrist._

"_George," Harry whispers, looking up at him._

"_Yes, Harry?" George whispers back._

_But Harry doesn't get to ask his question, which is just as well since he never had one. Instead, George leans in and kisses Harry firmly but softly on the mouth, and wraps his arms tightly around his waist. Harry throws his arms around George's neck. They're there for a long time; long enough that they have to leap apart when they hear voices outside of their room._

_It's Blaise and one of his friends from fourth year there to help him with some homework, so Harry and George leave the room to go sit in front of the common room fireplace._

_They didn't talk about the kiss, but they don't pretend it didn't happen, either. Definitely not, because George keeps touching the spot on Harry's wrist beside his watch._

….  
**_END FLASHBACK_**  
….

Someone snaps their fingers in front of Harry.

"Much as I love watching you get caught up in flashbacks," Fred says, "because you look _hilarious_ with glazed eyes and drool on your chin"—(Harry quick wipes his mouth with his sleeve)—"the flashback happens to involve you snogging the love of my life, so I'd rather you just not to acknowledge the fact you remember."

"Uh, sorry," Harry says, blushing.

"S'okay," Fred grins. "He _is_ the most beautiful thing alive…" He sighs happily, and then continues with answering Harry's first question: "Do you remember how you fell asleep leaning against his shoulder while still down on the couch?

Harry nods, doing his best not to think about how he woke up. But it doesn't work…

…  
**_FLASHBACK_**  
…

_Harry stretches out his limbs, but his left arm doesn't get very far. He yanks open his eyes to see George sitting up next to his own figure, which happens to be sprawled out across the couch with his head on George's lap._

_George's hair is the messiest Harry has ever seen it, his eyes are bloodshot, and around them are dark circles. He's also holding a cup of something hot and steaming in one of his hands._

"_Morning," he says, looking down at Harry with a warm smile and taking a sip from the cup._

"_George," Harry says, moving his left arm a bit so he CAN stretch it. "You look—I mean—well—nice hair. You must have slept terribly. Was that my fault? I'm sorry. Yo—"_

"_Stop babbling, Harry," George interrupts, pushing the fingers of his free hand through Harry's hair. "I slept terribly because I didn't sleep."_

_Harry frowns. He leans up and looks around the room and it's completely empty (for who knows what reason; it's either too early or still the middle of the night, and Harry can't tell because there are no windows in the Slytherin common room) so he doesn't have to whisper—much._

_He turns back to George and quietly says, "Why didn't you? Was it because of last night, when we kissed? You seemed happy. I'm sorry; it won't happen again. I know you love—"_

_George cuts him off by leaning in and kissing him again. George tastes like black coffee, something Harry happens to very much enjoy._

_When he pulls away he's chuckling, and he says, "You're so good at babbling, Harry. The kiss was great—as was that one. I didn't sleep because…well, I was thinking of HIM, putting it mildly. I want him, you know?—but I'm afraid of it. I'm afraid to tell him. He hates me. He'll always hate me…"_

….  
**_END FLASHBACK_**  
….

"You know all the details to that, I assume?" Harry asks Fred when his flashback goes away. (Later on he had asked George where everybody was, and it was indeed too early for anybody to be up. Neville, Hermione, Greg, and Gin hadn't even noticed them sitting there.)

Fred nods.

"Did you ever really hate him?"

"Only for the first few months, but it was over pretty quick."

"Okay, well, yes, I remember waking up with him. What about it?"

"Er, you tell George everything, right?"

"Everything."

"And you know I end up knowing everything, too?"

"Well…yeah, I assumed it."

"You're okay with that, right?"

"I…yeah, I am."

Fred takes a deep breath. "A long time ago, before we hated each other, George and I were very into experimenting with spells and muggle artifacts and whatnot, much as we are now. George was always better at it than me, and he ended up creating this thing he calls the Hidden Tongues. It's an only silent spell you only have to perform once, and the reversal spell only works during the full moon."

Harry blinks at him. "That sounds brilliant, really, but I have no idea why it's important to this."

"It…well, it's honestly really confusing. It allows you to read parts of the mind that you performed the spell on, depending on how well you know the person."

"That doesn't seem that confusing…"

"That's because I haven't said the confusing part yet."

"Oh."

"Yes, well, anyway. Only George can _truly_ explain it, so you'll have to ask him later, but I'll do my best. I know that it allows you to know when the person is lying or stretching the truth or whatever, and also whenever that person is thinking or talking about the person who cast the spell. You don't have to be with the person to be reading them; you just have to want to read. The spell knows when you want to read so you don't have to be distracted during a test or something with things you don't want to hear about, or just whenever you don't want to hear anything but yourself. And if you're not reading someone for even a minute, as soon as you tune back into them you're 'synced in' to everything that you didn't hear. Basically, if someone that you read is being disgusting, that sucks for you."

"That's pretty cool, but I still don't see how it's confusing."

"Merlin, Harry! Shush and let me finish, would you?"

Harry blushes awkwardly. "Sorry."

Fred rolls his eyes. "Slytherin's. Anyway, the rest is only random to me. George says he sometimes hears people singing songs in their head, and other times he gets some intense arithmancy problem. But I do know that the closer both physically and emotionally the two people are, the spell castor and the one who's had it casted on them, the more that you can hear. But…you'll have to ask George for the rest of it…"

Harry blinks at him. "Is that the confusing part?"

"You mean the part you'll have to ask George for? Uh, yeah. I decided I wouldn't try to explain it…"

Harry sighs. "After all this waiting, you don't even—wait a second. George hears people singing to themselves? You mean…he's already performed the spell on somebody?"

Fred averts his eyes from Harry's and nods.

"How many?"

"Twelve."

"Merlin, he has _thirteen_ minds floating around in his head? That's insane!"

Fred looks back at him and says, "Oh, he doesn't read most of the minds. Just a few of them."

"Can he read you?"

Fred nods. "And we're so close that he can read everything in my mind, and he let me use the spell on him so I can read him just as well.

"Who else?"

"Neville, Hermione, and Greg in their first year to make sure it still worked, and Gin in _her_ first year. Our parents and four brothers, and…" He trails off and looks away from Harry again.

"Fred, don't make me hit you."

"He did it on you, too."

Harry's mouth and the rest of his insides go dry. He blinks at Fred. "Me?" he asks hoarsely. "You mean…we're so close, Fred. If he did it to me he can read _everything_…"

Fred nods silently, still looking away from him.

"He did that when I was sleeping, then?"

Fred nods again.

"I guess I should be mad at him…but I'm not."

Fred looks over at him with a hopeful face. "He didn't want to," he says. "He knew that you wouldn't like somebody floating around in your head all the time. Even though you tell him everything, he knows that you like your privacy. He did it to make sure that he could always protect you. That's another reason that he didn't sleep at all. He was trying to choose if he should do it on me or not. He finally chose not to, though, because he was afraid of what he would hear about him, thinking I hated him and whatnot. But, I mean, he was also thinking about what would happen if you found out. He was afraid of that, too."

Harry frowns. "Well, that's all fine and dandy, but if he can read everything…" He crinkles up his nose. "Ew. He watched my kiss with Draco."

Fred bursts into laughter. When he controls himself, he says, "The awkward thing is I got to watch it too, since I was reading George while he read you."

"Merlin, _no_," Harry groans, dropping his face into his hands. "That is so _embarrassing_, Fred!"

Fred chuckles. "You think t_hat's_ embarrassing? This one time, back at the Burrow—we call our house that—I was sitting in our room reading some book and George walks in from his shower with nothing but a towel on, and I proceed to think of all the nasty things I want to do to him. Then he turns to be, once he's dressed, and says something like 'you do realize I've been watching all of your thoughts, right?' Merlin, Harry, _that's_ embarrassing!"

"But you both are dating! Do you have _any_ idea how many times I've thought about Draco? More times than _legal_! If George decided to tune into me when I was thinking about him, that means…" He trails off. "Ew. I mean _ew_. Fred, this is terrible! Your boyfriend is the biggest pervert I have ever met in my _life_!"

Fred bursts into laughter again, and this time Harry joins him.

"And I bet he's reading us right now, too!" Harry says once he's controlled himself enough to talk. "That means he knows I've been thinking about snogging him and he knows that I know that he knows I was thinking about it!" He stops and makes a face at his words. "I think I found that confusing part you were leaving for your brother, Fred."

"Congratulations, Harry," Fred says, "but that's not exactly—"

There's a knock on the door.

Fred curses. "Alright, Harry, I'm George, alright?"

"What?"

"I'm a Gryffindor in a Slytherin bedroom. I need to be George!"

"Oh!" Harry says, understanding the danger. "Right, right, it's so good to see you, George!"

"And you as well, Harry."

At that precise moment the door opens, and in walks Gin and Neville.

"George!" Neville exclaims. "It's so wonderful to see you! What are you doing here? Do you have any idea what's going to happen if Filch catches you?"

Fred gives an intense throat clearing and then, in the perfect voice of George, says, "Please, Neville, Filch will never find me. I'm the first Weasley to ever get into Slytherin House, remember? I am the master of evasion. Also, I'm here because Gin and Ron weren't answering the letters Fred and I were sending. Turns out Umbridge and Filch weren't letting them through, but we didn't know that, so we came to check on them."

Neville opens his mouth to answer, but then he sees Harry. It's the first time they've seen each other since Harry knocked him out.

"HARRY!" Neville says in a volume one down from a screech. "Oh, _Harry_!" He leaps across the room and almost dive tackles the green-eyed boy, wrapping his arms tightly around him. "I was so _worried_. Are you alright? Of course you're all right, you're with George! You love George, and George can make anyone feel better. Well…any Slytherin. But that's beside the point. What happened, Harry? Once second you were…never mind. Just, what happened?"

Harry looks over at Fred, who both nods and shrugs as if to say _it's your story; you can do whatever you want with it_.

Harry looks over at Gin and says, "As much as I'm thankful for you doing all of this, I don't think I'm comfortable telling…well, a girl."

Gin frowns.

"I'm sorry," Harry says quietly.

She seems to soften at this, sighing quietly. "Alright, take as long as you need. I'll be outside guarding the door some more. Did I give you enough time, by the way?"

"Perfect," Fred says in George's voice. It's really quite the same, but there's even a difference to them.

She nods, and then leaves the room, closing it behind her.

"You might want to get in a bit more of a comfortable position," Harry says to Neville, who still has his arms tightly around Harry.

"Oh," Neville says, letting go of him now. "A long story. Let me change into my pyjamas."

"Ooh, good idea," Harry says, sliding off the bed after Neville.

"Uh, I'll just stick to my clothes," Fred says back in his regular voice. "I still have to go home."

Neville looks up with his shirt off and trousers halfway down his legs. "Did your voice change?"

"In due time, Longbottom," Fred says, stretching out his legs. "For now, just kick back and relax."

With a frown Neville finishes getting into his pyjamas, and once Harry has his on as well the two of them curl up on the bed beside Fred as comfortable as they can with three good sized teenage boys.

"No comments until the end, alright?" Harry says to Neville, who nods solemnly.

And then Harry tells him, starting with his being gay and his having a crush on Draco since first year, and then beginning from when Draco showed up and tried to apologize to Harry for his dad. He tells him some little things that Fred and he talked about, but he skips the part about George's Hidden Tongues because he doesn't want to explain it—both about what it is and about the fact that George used it on Neville as well.

When he's done, Neville blinks at Harry for a long time, and then he turns and blinks for an even longer amount of time at Fred. Finally, he speaks to Harry:

"I KNEW IT! ALL THESE YEARS I _KNEW_ THAT YOU HAD A THING FOR MALFOY, EVEN IF IT WAS JUST SMALL ENOUGH TO WANT TO BE HIS FRIEND! I CANNOT _BELIEVE_ YOU DIDN'T TELL ME, YOU PRAT! I SWEAR TO MERLIN IF YOU EVER LEAVE ME OUT OF SOMETHING LIKE THAT AGAIN I'LL GET GIN TO HEX YOU INTO THE NEXT MILLENIA!"

Despite the fact that Neville's face and tone of his words let's Harry know he's genuinely pissed, Harry laughs.

"Oh, Neville," Harry says, resting his hand on his shoulder, causing Neville to tense slightly. "You've always been so sensitive, no matter how tough you are. You know perfectly why I didn't tell you."

Neville frowns. "What do you mean?"

"It's _Malfoy_, Neville. You would destroy me, get Hermione involved, or take me to see Madam Pomfrey."

"I would have done no such thing!"

"_Malfoy_, Neville. _Draco Malfoy_."

Neville sighs. "Alright, yeah, it is Malfoy. I would have flipped."

"Would have?" Fred says from his spot at the head of the bed. "I'm quite sure you did, my friend."

Neville turns and looks at him rather coldly. "I was not talking to you, _Weasley_."

"Ah, but I knew about all of this before you, so I'm automatically out loud to comment whenever I see fit."

"Oh, shut up, guys," Harry says, rolling his eyes. "You're bickering like—"

"True House enemies?" Neville suggests at the same time that Fred says, "A Gryffindor and a Slytherin are supposed to?"

Harry rolls his eyes again. "Well, yes, but I was going to say like children. The important thing about this is the fact that my insides have exploded because Draco left me tied to a bush a little over an hour ago."

"Which I'm going to kill him for, by the way," Neville says. "Anybody who hurts you will have to go through me, and I am not fun when I'm angry."

"Nor are you fun any other time," says a voice from the door, and Harry, Fred, and Neville all turn to see Gin and George.

"George?" Neville asks tentatively.

"The one and only," he says with a wink. "Though there is another who's rather good at pretending to be me."

Fred grins and Neville flies across the room and hugs George. "No offence, but I really hate your twin."

"As any Slytherin would," George says, patting Neville on the head. They break apart and George walks over and sits between Harry and Fred.

"I finished talked to a certain prat," he says to Harry, ruffling up his hair.

"I'm sick of talking about him," Harry says, pushing George's hand away.

"Oh, come now, you know you want to talk to him. He's just back in his bedroom. I could drag him down here, if you want."

"George, stop it."

George frowns sadly. "I'm sorry, Harry."

The fact that George is now here—George, the one that Harry's told his entire life to, even without meaning too; Harry's best friend—causes Harry to shatter again, but this time, more so. This time it's not because Draco's leaving, but because Draco is _gone_.

"Oh, Harry," George whispers, taking off Harry's glasses and throwing them onto Harry's bed across the room, and then gathering Harry's limp, crying figure into his arms. "It'll be alright." He holds Harry's head to his chest. "You'll see; we'll all see." He strokes his hair. "Shh…shh…it's alright."

And then Harry feels Neville join in soothing Harry, and next comes Gin (who Harry knows has absolutely no idea why Harry's crying), and finally Fred. They're one great big mass of people soothing the Boy Who Lived as he cries over the boy he's had his sights on since first year.

Draco Malfoy, the sodding prat.

"I hate him!" Harry wails, clutching tightly to George with one hand and Neville to the other, because they were the closest to his hands. "I never want to see him again! The stupid, sodding, blithering, son of a b—"

"Shut up, Harry," George says before Harry can get the brunt of his insult out. "You don't mean any of that. You're just mad at him."

"DAMN RIGHT I'M MAD AT HIM!"

_**OoOoOoO**_

It took one smack on the head from George and two stunning spells from Neville and Gin to calm Harry down—of course, he was also knocked out after that.

"I'll never look at that stupid prat the same way again," Neville growls, referring to Draco.

"What did _Harry_ do?" Gin asks him.

"He's not talking about Harry, Gin," Fred says. "You'll figure it out eventually."

She frowns and crosses her arm.

"Hey, Freddie?" George says, looking over at his twin with dreamy eyes.

Fred stares in the same way.

"It's probably time we head out now, don't yuh think?"

"Will Harry and…the prat, as Neville calls him, be alright?" Fred asks.

"Alright enough. We can't do anything more."

Fred nods.

"See you mates this summer," George says to Neville and Gin. "Tell Hermione, Greg, and Harry they're invited, too."

"Like all the other summers?" Neville asks.

"Well, yeah, but Hermione and Greg didn't come then. Tell them they're invited this year, but don't let them know that we invite you and Harry every year."

"They already know."

"Oh…" George looks down awkwardly. "It doesn't matter. Bye!"

"Bye, George," Neville says.

"See you at home, George!" Gin says brightly. "You, too…Fred."

"Uh, yeah," Fred says. "That's in less than a week. I'll see you then. I'll be seeing you as well, Longbottom."

"Yeah," Neville says to Fred, wishing that he could punch his face in. He _really_ hates Gryffindor's. "Bye."

George and Fred disappear out of the door.

"Wanna help me hoist him onto his own bed?" Neville asks Gin.

"Are you a wizard or not?" she asks, giving him a _you're an idiot_ look, and then disappearing out of the door behind the twins.

"Oh," Neville says out loud to himself. "Oh yeah."

Using his wand he lifts Harry through the air and onto his own bed.

"Good thing you changed into your pyjamas already," Neville says to Harry's unconscious body. "It would have been a nightmare getting you out of your trousers."

He tucks Harry in, and then decides that he's not ready to go to bed yet. He'll go down to the fireplace and finish some of his homework. He's already been in this room long enough; he's got to move somewhere else now, before he starts feeling trapped.

"Goodnight, Harry," Neville says from the door, extinguishing all the lights in the room with his wand. "I lo"—he stops himself.

Nobody can actually hear him, but…

"Sleep well and dreamless, Boy Who Lived."

And then he closes the door on the dark haired, brilliantly green-eyed boy.

* * *

References: 1. _Draco buries his face in his hands. "Yes! I'm scared, Weasley! I'm terrified!"  
"Not nearly scared enough," Weasley growls. "I know what haunts you."_

These lines are from _The Fellowship of the Ring_ movie, I just changed it a bit. The original lines are: Aragorn: "Are you frightened?"  
Frodo: "Yes."  
Aragorn: "Not nearly frightened enough. I know what hunts you."

/

A/N: Alright, the reason that I dedicated this chapter to creativity! This title probably made no sense at all—but there is a purpose! I originally had it as _Secrets, Secrets, Secrets_, but then I looked up synonyms for "secret" and got "hush-hush" and "cloak-and-dagger". So technically, the chapter is "secret the secrets with your little secret". Creative? Creative? _I_ certainly thought so.


	9. The Summer Before 6th Year, Part I

**The Summer Before Sixth Year, Part I: The Squirrel, the Eagle Owl, and the Elephant Calf**

Beginning chapter A/N's: So you know how Ollivander is taken at the beginning of the sixth book/movie, so his shop is completely abandoned when everyone (in the real books/movies) goes to get things for the sixth year at Hogwarts? Well, I'm changing that so that he's taken after that. Because I put him into this chapter even though he's not supposed to be. He's also who I'm dedicating this chapter to, because you have _no_ idea how much I envy his memory!

* * *

"Just this once," the Minister had said firmly to Draco and his mother, Narcissa. "It is the only time and I am only doing it because the boy did not even get to see him. I and one other Auror will accompany you to ward of the dementors and to...watch him. We will not leave your sides—there will be _no_ privacy. Do I make myself clear?"

Draco had only nodded, and his mother had nodded stiffly and said, "Crystal clear, Minister."

Now the four of them are there, walking quickly and quietly through Azkaban, four silvery animals bounding around them in a shimmering mist: a raven from the Aurora whose name Draco does not know, a leopard from the Minister, a squirrel from Draco's mother (which made Draco both laugh and watch it with a confused expression; it was just so innocent, especially coming from his mother, the wife of a Death Eater), and his own elephant calf. His confuses him the most out of all of them. An _elephant calf_? Not even an _adult_ elephant? He doesn't even_ like _elephants!

"Nonsense, Draco," his mother had said when he first produced the Patronus. (She insisted that he learn how to make one in an hour's time—which he did—if they were going to be around dozens of dementors, and that's when the _elephant calf_ showed up.)

"Elephants are wonderful!" Draco's mother had continued. "It has been proven that they never forget anything, you know."

Draco is thinking about that conversation now, as they march through the prison, muttering silently to himself.

_Elephants_, he thought. _"They never forget anything," she says. Well isn't that splendid, because I really want to remember everything that passes through my head. Maybe it just means certain things. I don't remember things _that_ well. Just when they come to Harry…_

And then they're there, in front of the single-manned cell, a dementor floating darkly in the ceiling corner.

Both the Minister and the Aurora wave their wands, and Draco knows that it's a silencing charm so that only the four of them and Draco's father can hear the conversation. They also talked about how all of it would be absolutely, one hundred percent private. It _will not_ leave the minds of the five of them unless it was the wishes of the three Malfoy's.

"Lucius," the Auror says. "You have company."

Draco's father looks up from his distant expression at the floor to see the four visitors.

"Narcissa," he says quietly. "Draco."

Draco mother flicks a single finger and her Patronus squirrel scampers through the air and scares off the dementor, and then it starts to run around Draco's father in spiraling motions.

Slowly—slowly—the hunched figure beneath the striped Azkaban uniforms starts to straighten, and the tangled white hair begins to shimmer again with its true platinum blond luster, and those distant gray eyes start to open in silver to what truly stands before him.

"Narcissa!" he says, pushing himself to a shaky but firm standing position. "Draco!" He stumbles across his small prison cell until he's leaning against the bars, one hand gripping both of his wife's hand the other gripping both of his son's.

The three of them stare at each other brightly, the squirrel continuing to scamper around both of Draco's parents.

"You made one," his father says with a quiet smile to Draco.

Draco nods happily and directs his elephant calf to begin to run around both his father and him. As much as he doesn't accept his Patronus animal, his father is proud of him, so he's instantly proud as well.

"You know, they never forget anything."

"I know," Draco says, nodding. "Mother told me."

"Do you know what my Patronus is?"

Draco shakes his head no.

"An eagle owl. That's why I got you one instead of any other animal, and not because it was the most magnificent of the owls."

Something passes through Draco's mind that makes him chuckle on the inside. "Don't owls _eat_ squirrels?" he asks in a quiet, joking tone.

His mother, the Minister, and the Aurora all laugh—_really_ laugh, even in the fowl prison.

"On, Draco," his father says, letting go of his mother's hands and patting Draco on the head—_patting his head_. "You have no idea."

His mother snorts—she _snorts_—and says, appalled, "_Lucius_!"

"Maybe I _should_ have permitted privacy," says the Minister quietly, but Draco sees the smile that's barely being kept back.

"Father," Draco says, squeezing the hand that grips both of his. "I need to...ask something of you. Both of you." He turns to his mother.

She nods and, Lucius nodding as well, they take each other's hands again.

"There's thi—"

"Sorry, but no privacy," the Minister says.

"Shut up," Draco snarls. "I don't care if you listen or not, just let me speak to my family!"

The Minister looks torn between anger and shock.

"There's the Slytherin I know is in there somewhere," Draco's father says with a smile.

"I'm in Gryffindor, father," Draco says. "Parkinson, Crabbe, and Weasley's galore. May I speak now?"

His father frowns slightly and nods.

Draco takes a deep breath._ This is it, he thinks. I'm going to tell them—both of them._

"I...I have this friend. If friend is really the word... Um, there's this bloke I've recently gotten to know, uh, quite well. During fifth year, I mean."

"Who?" his mother asks.

"I'm getting there," Draco says quietly. Then, in a more confident voice, he continues: "Anyway, well, he's...he's gay."

He holds his breath, but his mother and father don't even flinch _or _share a single glance before his father instantly says, "Splendid, I can't wait to learn his name. Please go on."

Draco exhales. _First Operation, Find Out If Parents Are Homophobic, complete. Second Operation, Tell Them That You Happen To Be Gay As Well, commencing._ Draco shakes his head just barely at how awkward this all truly is, telling his parents he's fancied boys since first year.

"Father, Mother, I think... Well, no, I know. Since I was eleven, since first year, I mean, I've been, well...gay. Just like my friend."

He holds his breath again, and this time his parents do share a look. But it's short and he can't read a single thing on their expressions, and when his father looks back at him he smiles ever so slightly and says, "That's perfectly alright with us, Draco. Please continue."

Draco exhales again, long and loud and forceful, making his body crumples over itself a little. "Really?" he asks. "You're...you're okay with it? Really?"

"You are our son," his mother says, taking one of her hands from her husband's and resting it on Draco's shoulder. "We will always support you. Though, if this follows you to adulthood, it will pose a problem with carrying on the Malfoy line... Of course, adoption of an orphaned pureblood is always acceptable as well."

"Thank _Merlin_," Draco says, squeezing his father's hands very tightly, and then releasing one of them to take his mother's hand on his shoulder.

"Is there anything else you have to say, son?" his father asks quietly.

Draco almost melts. _Son_. His father hasn't called him son since he was eleven, before he had been Sorted into Gryffindor. It was like being gay had caused his father to love him more; connected them somehow. Odd, really.

"I...I think I'm in love with him," Draco says quietly, looking down at the hand that's holding his fathers. "I didn't want to think about it at first—and when I say at first I mean the end of fifth year, when...well, something happened, and I'll tell you that in a minute. Anyway, I didn't realize it until I talked to Neville Longbottom. He's a Slytherin, one of H"—he barely catches himself, covering his almost spoken word with a lot of huffy coughs—"the best friend of the bloke I know. He...Longbottom told me things that I haven't thought about much. It's funny; I didn't know he had noticed it all so deeply..." Draco trails off, thinking airily of the train ride back to Platform 9 ¾, when Longbottom had trapped him in the back compartment where nobody would ever look for them…

…  
**_FLASHBACK_**  
…

"_If you don't fix this, I will end you," Longbottom growls (after explaining to Draco all of the little things that Harry had done to let Longbottom figure out that he fancied the blond), shoving a pointed finger into Draco's face. "He is devastated. He is broken. He's lost and he's depressed and he hates you because of what you did. Don't talk to him unless you're going to fix it, because it will just hurt him more. Do you understand me, you fucking twat?"_

_Draco gulps and nods frantically, praying to Merlin that he won't get punched in the face._

"_Good." Longbottom takes a step back and lets out a deep breath. "And don't tell anybody I've spoken to you. You'll regret that one, too."_

_Draco just keeps nodding until Longbottom is out of sight. When he is, Draco's entire body crumples, and he slides down the wall and onto the floor._

….  
**_END FLASHBACK_**  
….

"Anyway," Draco continues. "Nothing really happened in year one, but in year two Longbottom and three of his friends trapped me in a hallway. I didn't know what they were going to do to me, but I was hiding in one of the classrooms, and H"—he coughs huffily again—"the gay friend came in, because he was with them. And when he saw me, he...he winked at me, and then he shut the door and said that I wasn't in there. He let me go, and I didn't know why at the time...

"In year three...well, remember when I was slashed on the arm by that hippogriff?"

His parents nod, and there's a thin line on his father's face, though Draco isn't sure if it's from everything that he's telling him or the memory. Hopefully the former…

"He was—the bloke, not Neville—was the first person at my side. He asked me if I was alright. He did quickly add that he would have to hurt me himself if I was, but Neville told me that that was just a cover up. That the other boy told him later that he really did care; that he was terrified I was really, terribly hurt. I wasn't, of course—well, alright, it hurt a little...but I didn't let anyone know that." Draco sighs.

"And in fourth year, at the very end of the Triwizard Tournament..." Draco trails off.

_Shit_, he thinks. _How am I supposed to explain without giving away that it's Harry?_

"He got hurt with all of the ruckus, and I was suddenly at his side... I don't even remember running down the stands to him, but I was suddenly there, and he had tears all over his face and there was some blood on him, and I was..." Draco takes a deep breath, remembering the pain in Harry's eyes. Of course, it didn't stop his comment about Draco caring, where he had so cunningly asked if Harry had heard him right and then repeated a question he had not truly asked. "I was terrified," Draco finishes. "And then the professors came along and pushed us away from each other so they could make sure he was alright, and I was scared, because I wanted to stay with him, but I couldn't. I don't remembering doing that, either, but Longbottom seems to remember it all very clearly...

"Year five, this most recent year, is when I found out that three people happen to be homosexual. You heard about the Weasley twins, I'm sure?"

Draco's mother chuckles slightly in an obvious _yes_ and his father smiles lightly. "I was standing beside their father, Arthur, when both of us learned about it for the first time. I've never seen a man's expression change so quickly, so many times, in the course of a painfully silent minute."

Draco nods. "Well, that's when I found out that the other boy is gay, too. And I...I tried apologizing to him for something, and...Well, anyway, I cried a lot, and I ended up behind this bush by the lake. I was planning on being alone for a few hours, but then he..." Draco breathes in deeply. "He showed up, behind me. He didn't know I was there, so we started talking about some things, and then..." He takes another deep breath. "He kissed me."

He waits for his parents to comment, but they don't, so he continues: "I kissed him back at first, but then I...well, I panicked. I was afraid that I would lose my friends because of it, because he's a Slytherin and Gryffindor's are born to hate them—no offence."

His parent's nod to let him know that there's no harm done.

"And I was afraid of what you two would think, and I was afraid what...You-Know-Who would do to you if he found out about it and didn't like it." He looks sternly into his father's eyes, and to his surprise, they're filled with nothing but concern.

"I cast a spell that tied him to the bush—don't worry, it let him go—and then he started to plead with me that it would be alright, but I didn't want to listen. I was scared for another reason. I was scared that I thought I loved him at all, because that magnified all of the other fears tenfold. I told him that, too, and then I ran. I...we haven't had any contact since. I haven't even let him see me..."

Draco closes his eyes tightly, bites his bottom lip, and looks down at the ground—away from his parents, anywhere but them. Gryffindor's are not cowards; Gryffindor's are brave. That's what the Sorting Hate said every stinking year, and here a Slytherin is braving him up, and Slytherin's are said to only care about themselves.

_I'm an idiot_, he thinks. _A sodding, blithering idiot._

"There's nothing wrong with being afraid, Draco," his father says quietly.

Draco's head snaps back up at him. Was his father, Lucius Malfoy, truly saying that he approved of Draco's fright?

"Your father knows that sort of fear firsthand, Draco," his mother says, lightly squeezing Draco's hand.

He blinks between the both of them. "What do you mean?"

"Later," his father says. "First your mother and I want to hear about this friend of yours."

"I think _friend_ is the wrong word," Draco whispers, looking back down at the ground.

"Then what would you like us to call him, dear?" his mother asks casually.

Draco looks up at fixes his eyes on his mothers for a brief moment, and then turns back and locks eyes with his fathers.

Without even taking a deep breath, Draco answers with confidence he inherited from both of his parents; the confidence that he would bet had put him into the House of Godric Gryffindor:

"Harry Potter."

Behind him, both the Minister and Auror gasp. But Draco ignores them, watching for his father's reaction.

When it finally comes, it is _not_ what Draco expects.

A faint smile starts to tug at his lips, and then it starts to grow, until it's enveloping his entire face. And suddenly he's laughing—loudly, harshly, and _crazily_. He pulls his hands away and wraps them tightly around his gut, and he even collapses down onto his _knees_.

Draco looks over at his mother to ask her if his father is okay, but she's laughing too—so hard that it's completely silent. She's clutching her stomach with one hand and leaning the other on her knee so she doesn't collapse as well.

It seems to go on forever, until _finally_, Draco's parents pull themselves together, both standing back up as straight and dignified as usual.

"That," his mother says, pulling out a handkerchief and dabbing at her eyes, "is your father's firsthand fear."

Before Draco can question it, his father speaks: "A long time ago, Draco, when I was in my fifth year...well, just like you, I fell in love for the first time."

Draco blinks at him. Somehow, he just can't picture his father in love, no matter the fact that he's married.

"He was only in his first year, but four years was and is nothing—not really, at least. He—well, no need for details. But I think his name will surprise you."

Draco gapes. "_His_? Father, you were—"

"Gay, yes," his father finishes. "But that changed in my seventh year, when I got to know your mother. Anyway, I won't go into details on that either. The important thing is his name."

"What?" Draco asks. "What is it?"

"Was, Draco," his mother says quietly.

Draco looks at her and then back at his father. "He's... dead?"

"Yes, but it's alright, now. We had our closure. Besides, it was a very valiant death. He wouldn't have done anything different."

Draco swallows. "Who was it?"

"James Potter."

This time there are three gasps, Draco's joining the Minister's and the Auror's.

Draco fumbles for words, unable to form a coherent sentence for about seven seconds. But then he speaks (or sputters, but they're near enough the same): "Harry's _dad_? Harry's dad was _gay_? With _you_? What about Lilac, or whatever her name was!"

"It was Lily, and details are not what matters. The important thing is that the phrase 'like father, like son' fits beautifully here."

Draco's brain grasps for something firm to keep him upright. His father—the most dignified, the most proper, the most reserved man he knows—had been _gay_. With Harry's dad, no less!

And, and, and...

He had made a sex joke! He had called him _son_ again! He had said that it was okay to be afraid! He had been on his _knees_, holding his _gut_, and _crying_ of _laughter_—all at _once_!

Draco finally understands, firsthand, why most of the Azkaban prisoners went insane. And his father was one of those that did.

"Well, you're not gay anymore, obviously," Draco says quietly. "Does that mean that you're...what's the word?—bisexual?"

Draco's father shakes his head. "I am neither gay, bisexual, straight, or anything else you can think up. There is only your mother."

Draco nods. It was all very confusing, really. Was he going to be in love with Harry only until seventh year, when he got to know _Pansy_ better, or—Merlin forbid—the _Granger_ girl? He didn't want a girl...he didn't like very many of them. They all wore too much makeup and cared too much about their hair and what everybody else thought of them. How tiresome...

"But let us not dwell on it any further, hmm?" Draco's father says to him. "It already looks like you're trying to hold back a deeper damage to the brain."

_And you let go a long time ago, pops_, Draco thinks.

Then he blinks at himself. Pops? Even in his head, he had just called his father _pops_? Oh, yes, this prison is a bad place.

_I'm never going to become a criminal. It's too dangerous for the brain._

"I'm not ready to go back to him, though," Draco says quietly to both of his parents. "And I'm not ready for anybody else to know, either. You won't tell anyone, will you?"

His mother nods and then starts to speak, but his father interrupts her: "Was that question also to me, Draco?"

Draco cocks an eyebrow and nods slowly.

His father closes his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose, and sighs long and loud and deep. "Draco," he says with eyes stilled closed and nose still pinched, "If you were not my son I would hit you for the stupidity of that question."

Draco frowns. "Why?"

He throws his hands away from his face and gestures with spread arms to the stone walls around him. "In case you hadn't noticed, I'm sitting in a dementor infested cell that I can't even lie down straight in. Yes, I think I'll just nip out for a cup of tea and a quick gossip with Yaxley and the Carrow's. Any other juicy secrets you'll spill for our entertainment, son?"

Draco laughs. His father is joking. Add that to the list of reasons he's gone insane. The sarcasm isn't new, though.

And then Draco's face saddens. "We need to go now, father."

His father's face saddens too. "If only you could leave your calf here with me." He sighs. "Come here, son, and give your father a hug."

Draco blinks at him. "A hug?"

"Please, Draco, you're embarrassing me. I did not even know more of it was possible; I guess being put into the wizard prison wasn't quite enough humiliation for you father in your eyes, hmm?"

Draco steps forward, pushes his arms through the bars, and wraps them around his father.

"I'm proud of you, Draco," his father says, wrapping his arms back. "I approve of Harry Potter, no matter the fact that I'm supposed to help get him killed." And then, in a barely audible whisper even to Draco, "Keep him safe."

Draco suddenly realizes how truly, mind shatteringly surreal and awkward this all is.

"Er, thanks, father," he says. "I'll do my best. Gryffindor's are very stubborn."

Draco pulls away and his mother takes his place. His parents kiss once, whisper _I love you_'s, and break apart again.

"Goodbye," all three of them say at once.

The squirrel and the elephant calf stop circling Draco's father and just stand motionless at the other two Malfoy's sides.

A dementor floats darkly back into the corner ceiling and the distance starts to seep back into the man's eyes.

Draco takes his mother's hand and starts to walk away from the cell before he sees more, but it's too late. The elephant calf flickers, and then snuffs itself out in a silvery puff.

"Mother," Draco says, noticing the squirrel continue to scurry around with the raven and leopard as the Minister and Aurora follow them. "What could you possibly be thinking about to keep that thing going?"

"My happy thought is that your father will be freed, Draco," his mother says. "Not today, and not for a long time, but eventually he will come back to us, where he belongs."

And just like that, the calf is back, tromping along with a grace only a Patronus elephant calf can have. And Draco didn't even say the words; he didn't even flick his wand.

"You know, mother," he says, smiling brightly at his calf. "I think that father has lost his mind."

"Not lost, Draco," his mother says, linking her arm into his. "Lost means that he will never get it back. He has only misplaced it, and will find it again soon enough."

And as his mother and he walk out of the wizard prison to the bewitched car they would be taking back to the Ministry, Draco's thoughts echoes throughout his entire body:

_I hope not._

_**OoOoOoO**_

_Enough days later that it's time for Hogwarts shopping..._

There isn't even a full week until the start of Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts. He had ditched the Dursley's two months before the end of summer to go to the Burrow to be with George and Gin, like he had done every year since year one. And a little less than a month ago, Neville, Hermione, and Greg had showed up as well. Add the parents and the other two Weasley's (Arthur, Molly, Fred, and Ron), and that meant that there were ten people in the already usually completely cramped house. Harry is just glad that Charlie is out with the dragons, Bill is out teaching Fleur the ropes Gringotts, and Percy is still being a prat and keeping away from his family.

"Come _on_, Harry," Hermione says, yanking lightly on his elbow. "You've got to do something other than just sit around quietly and pretending you're just tired all the time."

Oh yeah, he hasn't done much this summer, either. It's his new favorite sport, even before Quidditch, to do nothing but sit and complain about Ron having to be there (he had to stay because Malfoy—yes, Harry had started calling him Malfoy again so it didn't pain him as much when he thought about him, though it wasn't really helping—never had visitors his age over to his house, and add the fact that is father's a Death Eater and nobody wanted their kid over there anyway).

But Harry knows there's no point in arguing with Hermione, so he rolls his eyes and says, "That's why we're going shopping today, isn't it? So I get up and do something productive?"

"Ha!" Gin says. "You admit it!"

Harry throws her a look, because Gin knows perfectly well that Harry is going through something terrible this summer. She doesn't know what it is yet, but that doesn't mean she's supposed to be on Hermione's side. The two girls have become closer and closer this year thanks to their being the only girls around (because Molly doesn't count).

"Don't be thick, sis," George says. "Harry's only _humoring_ his mini-mother. Right, Harry?" (George had started calling Hermione "Harry's mini-mother" because Hermione is shorter than him and she tends to nag him even when he isn't doing anything wrong.)

Harry nods. "Because I _am_ tired. I don't want to go anywhere! It's too much work..."

Neville rolls his eyes and George winks at Harry, who only shrugs at them. Both of them know his real reason: Malfoy. George is making a joke about it all, which Harry doesn't like much, but he doesn't tell him to stop because he knows that he's only just trying to help; Neville is still slightly annoyed at Harry for two reasons, one being the fact that Harry had not told him he was gay in the first place, and two being the fact that he loves _Malfoy_. And there's a third reason, but Harry can't place that one, and George refuses to read Neville for him or tell him the Hidden Tongues spell. George just said that Harry shouldn't know about it yet; he'll learn later. But Harry not knowing the third reason doesn't stop Neville from being annoyed and bitter. For a Slytherin, Neville certainly expects people to trust him pretty deeply. This must be something big.

"Oh, Harry, we're not going shopping for another _hour_," Hermione says (completely ignoring George's _mini-mother_ comment, mostly because she's completely used to it). "Why don't we all just go play Quidditch?"

"I'm not playing without Fred," George says, "And then the teams will be uneven..."

They all sit in awkward silence for a couple of seconds as what they need to do sinks in.

"Well, I guess we could..." Neville says reluctantly.

"Do we _have_ to...?" Gin whines.

"It'll only be this one time, right?" Harry asks.

Hermione just frowns and crosses her arms.

"Come on, guys!" George says. "For Fred!"

The four others in the room only blink at him.

"Alright, it's for me, then."

Harry rolls his eyes heavenward, but George is his best friend, so he'll comply. "Fine," he says. "But only for today! Next year we'll go to Hermione's house, and he's not _invited_."

The three others nod in agreement, and at that precise time the door of the twin's bedroom bangs open to reveal Greg.

"George, Gin!" he says, exasperated. "I absolutely _detest _your bathroom! And the house isn't too hot in itself, either."

"You'll get over it," a voice says behind him, and Greg is almost shoved to the side as Fred pushes in.

"Freddie!" George says, holding his arms out.

"Georgie!" Fred returns, bounding across the room and into George's lap.

They kiss quickly, having been yelled at by everybody in the house at least once for having long snogging sessions out in public.

"We're going to play Quidditch!" George says happily to both Fred and Greg.

Greg frowns. "Won't the teams be uneven?—'cause I know Fred's gonna play."

"We're inviting Ron," Ginny says darkly.

"_Ron_?" Greg screeches.

"I HEARD MY NAME!" shouts a muffled voice from somewhere downstairs, swiftly followed by feet pounding up the stairs and Ron's narrow-eyed appearance in the still open doorway. "Are you talking about me again?" he growls. "I don't like hearing my name from mouths I don't like."

"Hello, Ron!" Fred says, because he's the only one in the entire room Ron actually enjoys the company of. "We were just discussing a game of Quidditch! Wanna play with us so the teams are even?"

Ron cocks an eyebrow. "You're not serious." It's not a question, though the expression in his eyes suggests it is.

"He's serious," Hermione, the next in line for Ron's affection (if he had to give it out) for reasons Harry didn't know, says. "Fred wouldn't lie to you about that."

"But you'd all probably lie to Fred about it," Ron replies darkly.

"Ah, but _I_ wouldn't," George says. "Are you going to play or not?"

Ron looks down at his feet and starts shifting them awkwardly. "I don't know..." he says.

"Come on, Ron!" Fred pleads. "You're the only one left in the house to play to make it even! You played with George and Gin before Harry and everybody else showed up, so I think you can tough these other Slytherin's out. Besides, you're bored to death, aren't you?"

Ron looks up at Fred with a slight frown.

"You can be on my team..." Fred says quietly.

"Oh, al_right_!" Ron says, throwing his hands into his air.

The room explodes in happiness, and it's a second explosion as everybody scrambles out and around the room to get their brooms. They finally all get out into the Weasley's field, George carrying their box of Beater clubs, Catcher sticks, Bludgers, the Quaffle, and the tiny Snitch.

_**OoOoOoO**_

"We're not going to play with the Snitch," George informs everyone as he drops down the box. Ignoring the protests, he explains why: "We don't even have an entire hour to play, and the Snitch is always hard to catch—'sides, four members on each team is hardly enough as it is. We'll have to have one Keeper, one Beater, and two Catchers. And that means only one Bludger for the one Beater on each team."

George looks over at Fred, they wink at each other, and then they wave their wands in synced movements. There's a shudder, and suddenly six Quidditch hoops burst out of the ground, three on each side of the field.

"Who wants to be the other Captain?" George asks.

"I do, naturally," Harry says, stepping up beside George.

When everyone has separated themselves onto the two teams, all four Weasley's end up being on one team, and under Harry's command is Neville, Hermione, and Greg.

The teams separate from each other to plan their tragedies, standing on the side of the field their Keeper will be guarding.

"Greg, you're the Beater," Harry says to Greg.

"Duh," Greg says, taking the Beater bat and juggling it with his broom. It's a feat even though he only has two items, considering that the broom is three times as long as the bat.

"I'll be Keeper," Hermione says. "I've never been very good at throwing a Quaffle."

"Alright," Harry says with a nod. "That leaves you and me as the Catchers," he says to Neville.

"Wonderful," Neville says, swinging around his own instrument. He wouldn't be alright with playing anything else. He wasn't built with the muscles of a Beater, or the swiftness of a Keeper, or the certain agility of a Seeker. No, he's definitely a Catcher; he's ready for speed and evasiveness and aiming. He's good at those things.

Harry takes his catching instrument as well, and then Greg flies up to the goals and the rest of them head back to the middle of the field. The Weasley team ends up with Fred as the Beater (no matter how aggressive George is, Fred has always been the stronger one), Ron as Keeper, and George and Gin as Catchers.

"Come shake my hand, Harry," George says.

Harry rolls his eyes, but does humor the other Slytherin.

And then the game begins.

About thirty-five minutes later, with fifteen minutes until they're all supposed to head out to Diagon Alley, a Bludger hits Neville squarely in the nose.

"Oh, bugger," Gin says, landing beside him while everybody else floats above with worried expressions. "Let's get you inside," she says to Neville, and then she looks up at the others and says, "I'll bring him inside so you mates can keep playing with even teams."

They nod in agreement and then take of flying again.

"Oh, you poor boy!" Molly squeals, pulling her wand out of her pocket as Neville and Gin sit at the dining room table, where there's a window with a clear view of the Weasley's Quidditch pitch.

Before Neville can say anything she flicks her wand with a silent spell and Neville's broken nose repairs itself.

"Now don't go anywhere while I get some things to clean up that blood!" Molly says, and she disappears from the room.

"She couldn't just conjure it from nowhere?" Arthur, her husband, says from behind the _Daily Prophet_ as he's leaning against a kitchen counter.

"We all know she's scared of Slytherin's, dad," Gin says without looking away from Neville's nose.

"That's not it," Arthur says, lowering the paper. "She just doesn't like—"

"Me," Neville interrupts. Arthur opens his mouth to protest again, but Neville continues: "No need to lie about it, Mr. Weasley. She and I just don't get along very well. It's not that I don't like her—I do, a lot, trust me—but we just rub each other the wrong way for no real reason. It's okay with me; we're from rival Houses, so it makes enough sense."

Arthur opens his mouth to say something but ends up only sighing. Then he nods silently and lifts the paper back in front of his face.

"Alright, I'll be done in a jiffy!" Molly says, appearing back in the room with a handful of baby wipes. She sets to work on wiping away the blood and snot. "And then we'll all head out for your school shopping." She looks out the window at the Quidditch game and gives a happy sigh. "Oh, Arthur, maybe we should leave them out there until the game is over. They all look so happy..."

Neville glances without turning his head to see the happiness, but he doesn't see it.

_Must be covered up by all of the murderous glares at Ron_, he thinks sarcastically.

"Mum, you must be joking," Gin says. "You're saying that as you mop up Neville's blood."

"Still," Molly says, making it obvious she doesn't want to make eye contact with Neville.

When she finishes, Gin goes out to get everybody else, who all eventually troop into the house—all with even deeper murderous glares, now including Ron's.

"What happened out there?" Neville asks.

"The Weasley's won," Harry growls, "because they cheated."

"WE DID NOT CHEAT!" George, Fred, and Ron bellow.

"I swear," Gin says before anybody else can speak with such authorative calmness that nobody dares talk over her, "If anybody else says another word about it I'll hex the lot of you."

And that effectively ends the conversation, because Gin casts a _mean_ hex.

When everyone has gathered up their things, they all stand in line to head off to Diagon Alley. First is Arthur, and then George, Fred, Greg, Neville, Hermione, Gin, Harry, Ron, and lastly is Molly.

George and Fred aren't attending Hogwarts anymore, of course, but they want to go to buy some materials for something called a Nosebleed Nugget for the joke shop they're trying to start. It's a childhood dream of theirs, before they stared to hate each other, and they're well along to making it a reality. Of course, Neville never told anybody what George told him about his winning a thousand Galleons in a bet back in his sixth year. Something about a dragon and the fang of a wolf.

"Does everyone have their money and sixth year material list?" Arthur asks from the front of the line.

"Yes!" echoes through the house from all the others but George, Fred, and Molly.

"Then we're off!" He turns around, steps into the fire, takes a handful of Floo powder, says, "Diagon Alley!" and throws it into the fire, disappearing in an eruption of green flames.

The line quickly diminishes as they all disappear into the fire, and eventually its Neville's turn, number five in line.

"Diagon Alley!" he says loud and strong and clear, throwing the Floo powder down. A wall of green overtakes his vision and he's spun swiftly until he appears in the store. He sees the four who came before him outside through the window, and once Hermione and Harry come through Arthur sends Harry, Neville, Hermione, and Greg all off on their own (George doesn't go because he wants to stay with Fred, Fred stays because he wants to stay with Ron, and Gin says because Arthur makes her).

"Where to first?" Neville asks Harry.

"Flourish and Blott's," Harry answers. "For our new books. And then you need a new wand, right?"

"Right."

"Can we get some robes, next?" Greg asks. "I grew another four feet since last year."

"Sure you did, Greg," Hermione giggles, starting off to the bookstore.

Once they've gathered their new books, they head off to Ollivanders' for Neville's new wand.

"Oh, I have just the thing," he says, disappearing behind a shelf of boxes. He comes back and hands Neville a box, and as Neville opens it Ollivander says, "Birch, eleven inches, core of unicorn tail. Give it a flick."

Neville does and it shatters a lamp.

"Alright, never mind, then," Ollivander says, disappearing behind another shelf. He comes back and says, "Redwood, eleven and a half inches, core of the blood of a sphinx."

_A sphinx?_ Neville thinks, blinking rapidly at the box.

"A sphinx?" Harry asks, voicing Harry's thoughts.

"A sphinx," Ollivander repeats with a nod. "Swish it around a bit."

The instant Neville lifts it from the box it and his entire being seem to glow.

"Perfect!" Ollivander says, clasping his hands together.

"A sphinx!" Neville says as he pays.

"That's wonderful," Hermione says with shining eyes.

"Absolutely," Greg says with a big smile.

"I like my phoenix feather better," Harry says, "but that really is wonderful, Neville."

"Thanks, guys," Neville says with a warm smile—though he barely holds back rolling his eyes at Harry.

_You always have to be the best, Harry. You're good at being proud; I love you for that. But I hate it._

Neville darts his eyes around at his three companions, making sure they didn't hear any of his thoughts. But their expressions are normal as they all exit the store to head off to Madam Malkin's to get new robes.

_Thank goodness_. He looks down at his new wand, rolling it between his fingers. _A sphinx! It's _blood_, even! And to think that old wand maker tested me on _unicorn hair_...how dreadfully common for next giving me a sphinx._

And then they're at the door, Neville going in third, before Harry going in last.

And there he is, the white haired Gryffindor, standing beside his blond haired mother as Madam Malkin is fitting him some new robes.

"Oh!' Neville says, spinning around and shoving Harry back outside before he hardly has a single foot in. "Harry, I forgot to ask!"

Harry looks torked until he hears that Neville has a "good reason".

"What is it?" he asks, his face fully softened.

_Question—think of a question!_

"Did you explain to me why you thought the Weasley team cheated?"

_Yeah, good enough question._

"Yeah, I told you when we were grabbing our gold."

_Damn, bad question._

"Oh, well," Neville says, his brain again scrambling. "Do you want to go get some food, then? You don't need any new robes, do you?"

"Actually, I do," Harry says, starting to look impatient. "Are you going to let me or do I have to push you?"

Neville only just barely opens his mouth without an answer before Harry sidesteps passed him and yanks open the door.

* * *

A/N: It took me ten minutes to come up with those first four Patronus's in Draco's first part of this chapter. I couldn't remember if the Minister's had come into the book and I wanted it to be the same if it did (finally said screw it and chose a random animal) and then I had to choose good animals for the Malfoy's! I thought the elephant calf was good because elephants do in fact never forget and an adult would be gigantic; the eagle owl was good because it had a story behind it (not to mention how it ties in with the story later…there's some reading incentive for yuh :P), and the squirrel was good because it made me laugh just thinking about a little rodent running around Narcissa in her elegant dresses. And the Auror's raven…well, whatever.


	10. The Summer Before 6th Year, Part II

**The Summer Before Sixth Year, Part II: Jill and the Checkered Blanket**

Beginning chapter A/N's: This chapter is dedicated to my blanky, Eligh, that I've had since before I was born and is still totally intact! And also to my stuffed blue unicorn and the two stuffed bears that have stuck with me through thick and thin: Blueberry the Unicorn (who still miraculously smells like blueberries—somewhat), Snuggles (yes, the bear from the fabric softener commercial; some lady gave him to me in Disneyland when I was three), and Fluffy Buttle Waffems (just don't ask)!

* * *

_Well, I don't know what's come over him_, Harry thinks as he steps into Madam Malkin's, _but I think I'll get some robes just like the ones Snape has. That way I can dress up as a bat for Halloween and—_

Harry stops dead, his eyes focusing on one, and then two figures on the other end of the room.

Now he knows what had come over Neville.

The first figure is a tall, elegantly dressed woman with light blond hair, long nails, and a relatively warm smile for the wife of a man in prison. The second is a platinum blond-almost white haired boy with arms spread wide as Madam Malkin fits his new robes to him. His eyes are gray, almost silver, and they're crinkled up in a short bout of soft laughter in response to something that Harry had not heard.

But then the silver eyes meet Harry's green ones, and they turn to gray, and the shimmering platinum turns to only white, and the laughter stops.

Draco Malfoy's pale skin has never looked paler, and his eyes never more terrified. The day at the lake they were a sad-scared, but now they're a shocked-scared.

"Ah, Mrs. Malfoy!" Neville says brightly, stepping in front of Harry. "I love the colour of your nails. And good choice in robes, Mal—Draco. Anyway, Harry and I were just checking on Hermione and Greg, but I don't see them, so we'll just leave for some...er, lunch!"

Neville turns around and starts to push against Harry's shoulders to get him back outside, but Harry doesn't even flinch against him. Draco's mother is staring deeply at Harry, and he has a pretty good idea that she knows everything that's happened. Draco is staring blankly at him, but after five years of watching the boys every move, Harry knows that he's about to burst with either tears or words—probably the former.

In the end, Neville still trying to budge Harry, it's neither Harry nor Draco who breaks the deafening silence, but Narcissa Malfoy.

"Hello, Mr. Longbottom," she says, breaking away from Harry's face and looking emptily at Neville. "Thank you very much. It is made from the vines of a very rare cactus plant of the exact same shade of green as the Slytherin snake. I do admit my dear son is in Gryffindor, but I like to show support for my own House. Though, I believe I shall make them red for the day I see him off to school with a particularly lovely shade made to look the same as the Gryffindor red. Yes, now I'm quite excited for it! And these robes are lovely, aren't they?" She reaches over and pulls at the hem of Draco's right sleeve lightly, where his arm hangs almost lifeless at his side. "The perfect length if only another inch is taken off the sleeves. Also, I believe your two friends went somewhere that way, in the very back of the story, where Draco and I won't be going anywhere near."

"Oh, brilliant!" Neville says, turning away from Harry but keeping his hands on his shoulders. "But we'd really rather go out"—he pushes once against Harry—"to"—twice—"EAT!" Thrice, and Harry flies backwards out of the door, but not before putting up a fight. His arms fly out, his feet tangle into themselves, and his head smacks painfully against the inside of the door.

But it's not painful for hardly a second, because the world seems to disappear in Harry's eyes. Disappear into an enormous stretch of black; into an expanse of nothing.

_**OoOoOoO**_

Before his mother can stop him, Draco leaps forward, pushing Neville aside like a weightless lump and throwing himself out of the door.

Harry is laying spread eagle on his back, his head tilted so that the back faces Draco. Blood is seeping from it—not in a torrent, but slow and sticky.

Draco throws himself over to Harry, dropping to his knees beside him.

"Harry!" he says frantically, pulling out his wand. "You great, big, stupid—"

He's shoved roughly aside, suddenly, and the one who takes his place is none other than his very own mother. She whispers various things under her breath, waving her wand near Harry's skull.

The blood begins to recede slowly, and finally the wound is closed and Harry's hair is clean. But then Draco hears the words to bring Harry back into consciousness—and he runs. He leaps up from the ground, shedding the robes he is meant to be fitted to, proudly showing the arm that Voldemort eventually chose not to mark, and runs. Past Madam Malkin's Robes For All Occasions and past Ollivander's Wand Shop and past Eelops Owl Emporium and past everything else until he comes to Borgin and Burke's, deep in Knockturn Alley.

Borgin had become Draco's father all those times that his real father was away on some sort of trip, or even just away at work. He is no Death Eater, and but he is an old family friend.

Draco has already been into this shop more than his own house this summer, just like ever summer since fourth year—just like every summer since Voldemort has been often visiting his Manor. He likes to help Borgin around the store, and sometimes he even gets paid for it. But he always sends a message letting Borgin know he'd be coming; Borgin knew that if he came unexpectedly, he would be coming under the order of his father, which meant his ever move was being closely observed.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Malfoy," Borgin says from his spot behind the counter. "How can I help you today?"

"I'm not on any business, Borgin," Draco says, breathing heavily. "I'm...hiding."

Borgin's salesman face melts away instantly. "Is it him, Draco? Is he coming for you again?"

Draco shakes his head no. "It's someone else. A student from Hogwarts. He is a Slytherin, though."

Borgin frowns slightly. "The boy with the green eyes, you mean?"

Draco told Borgin everything about Harry—except his name and the things that Borgin could use to figure out who it was, like the names of his friends and certain things that he did (like being in the Triwizard Tournament or getting Death Eater's put into Azkaban). Tons of people have green eyes. Borgin's known that Draco likes boys since the summer of fourth year, but now Draco thinks he's ready to know the name of his long-winded infatuation. Borgin can always help him, and Draco knows that because he always does.

"Do you want to know his name?" Draco asks, a tear escaping down the tip of his nose.

"Let's get you situated first," Borgin says, waving Draco over.

Draco's been over just to talk before, so he knows what Borgin means by his gesture. He heads across the room and behind the counter, and with a wave of both their wands a small cupboard on the floor unfolds from itself, eventually turning into a small, cushioned chair with a small blanket and a little stuffed bear.

"You haven't told anybody about Jill, have you?"

"Draco, please," Borgin says, holding the blanket (checkered orange and pink) and Jill (a small, stuffed bear in a red satin jumpsuit) while Draco sits down. "Every time we bring this out you ask me, and every time I say the same thing. _I promised, kiddo, and you're the only one I call kiddo, so of course I haven't told anybody_. Your confidence in me is breathtaking, really."

"Oh, sod off," Draco says, snatching the blanket and tucking it in around himself. "You know if anyone finds out I'll be the laughing stock of my entire House. Hand me Jill, please."

Borgin rolls his eyes as he hands Draco the bear, and then leans on the desk behind the counter to that he's facing the door but can also peer down at Draco whenever he pleases.

"Alright," he says. "Let me guess. After having no contact with green-eyes since the kiss," (Draco told Borgin about all of it, leaving out all the names as usual), "you just ran into him while shopping for school supplies. Am I right?"

Draco nods, another tear escaping down his face. "I was getting some new robes, and then one of the friends he was with must know everything because he was trying to get them out of the store. But then green-eyes hit his head and was bleeding everywhere, so I went over to him to fix the gash. Except, mother got there before me, so I didn't."

"And when she started to bring him back to consciousness, you came here to hide?"

Draco nods, a third tear streaming down his face.

"Let it out, kiddo," Borgin says quietly. So Draco does, tears erupting from the tear ducts behind his eyes and streaming down his face. It's the first time he's cried since the day at the Black Lake. It hurts, but the pain feels good.

Borgin kneels beside him, not saying anything and not touching Draco anywhere. They only touch each other when they needed help putting on a piece of clothing to handle some sort of Dark object. They just aren't much of a physical relationship, no matter how close they are.

But Draco likes it that way. He's used to not being touched (mostly because of his father), so he likes to keep it this way.

Draco finishes crying and wipes his face with the blanket.

"Are you ready?" Borgin asks, standing back up. "Oh, hello, Mr. Parkinson! How may I help you this afternoon?" Borgin waves his wand discretely at Draco, and he feels the disillusionment charm washing over him.

"I'm wondering if my…order came in, yet," Pansy's father says darkly to Borgin. Draco can't see him now, but he's met him at the station in London, and he reminds him coldly of his own father.

"No, not yet," Borgin says. "I told you that I would owl you when I had."

Mr. Parkinson gives an annoyed sigh. "Well, I was here with my wife and daughter shopping for school supplies, so I thought I'd stop by and check."

"Lovely idea, but I'm afraid it was a fruitless detour."

"Yes, afraid so. Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

"That's why I don't have a chair like you, kiddo," he says to Draco.

"So people don't see you with a teddy bear?" Draco asks.

"That too, but I was more thinking so I see them come into the store and they don't see _you_ with a teddy bear."

Draco pales slightly. "Thank Merlin I've got you."

"And speaking of which, this green-eyed boy of yours seems like an awful lot of trouble. Granted, you've told me time and time again that it doesn't matter to you. But still. Will you tell me his name, now?"

Draco looks up at Borgin, his face blotchy from crying. "You promise not to laugh?"

"Maybe I should guess first."

"You can try."

Borgin looks around the room, making sure they really are along, and then turns down to Draco and says with confidence, "Harry Potter."

Draco chokes and coughs. "On your first guess?"

Borgin shrugs and looks back at the door.

Draco lowers his voice to a whisper. "Is it that obvious?"

Borgin smiles warmly at the door. "I figured it out in third year."

Draco blinks up at him. He remembers third year; he hadn't said "he" at that time. It shouldn't have been so easy. "How did you know?"

"I...well, I don't know. I guessed."

"Liar."

"Alright, alright! It's just...you're so obviously _gay_, kiddo!"

Draco frowns. "How so?"

"Your eyes twinkle when you're happy. Only girls and gay eyes do that."

"Nuh-uh! All eyes do that!"

"No, they don't. Straight men have eyes that _glisten_."

"There is no difference in those!"

"Is too."

"_What_ then?"

"Glistening is more like a glaze-over. Twinkling is something that stars do."

"Yeah. That _stars_ do."

"Eyes are like stars."

"Oh, forget it! Yes it's Harry Potter! Happy?"

Borgin nods, his eyes glistening. "Quite. Are you—"

"Wait! Dumbledore! His eyes definitely twinkle!"

"That's because Dumbledore_ is_ gay, kiddo."

Draco blinks at Borgin. "He is?"

Borgin nods. "Said it himself. I thought everybody knew that. Anyway, are you going to stay in here forever or go and get him?"

Draco snorts. "Forever is a nice word."

He opens his mouth to answer, but instead smiles brightly at the door. "Hello, Narcissa."

"It is good to see you, Borgin. How has your day been?"

"I'm guessing the same as yours. Eventful."

Draco's mother chuckles. "I knew he was in here."

"Where else would he go?"

"Very true. Is he in the closet or under the floorboards? Or perhaps the ceiling?"

"Actually..." Borgin twirls his wand until it's pointing at Draco behind the counter, and Draco feels himself becoming visible again.

"Ah." Draco's mother's heels clack across the stone floor until she's leaning onto the counter with her elbows and is peering over at Draco. "How is Jill?"

"Dirty," Draco says, looking down at the bear he's holding tightly to his chest. "And a little tattered. Can we take her home to give her a bath?"

"Honestly, Draco," she says, pulling out her wand. "We are wizards."

"No!" Draco shoves the bear beneath his blanket. "I like cleaning her by hand! It's the only time I get to watch the house Elves do anything. They don't like it when I watch them clean things."

"Another reason you're so obviously gay!" Borgin butts in. "You have a stuffed _female_ bear, a _blanky_—that's checkered orange and pink, I might add—and you like watching house Elves _clean_ things. No _wonder_ I got it on my first guess!"

Draco narrows his eyes at Borgin. "Speaking of which. He turns to his mother. "Mother, do my eyes twinkle or glisten?"

She blinks at him. "You mean when you are feeling...happy?"

"That works," Draco says with a nod.

"Well, they certainly do not glisten. Only the eyes of straight men do that. Your eyes are like the stars."

"I told you," Borgin chuckles.

"Bugger," Draco grumbles, pulling Jill back to his chest. "Did you know too, then?"

His mother smiles warmly. "Do you remember the short look Lucius and I shared when you first told us about your liking for boys? When we were in Azkaban with him?"

Draco remembers it instantly.

…  
_**FLASHBACK**_  
…

_He holds his breath again, and this time his parents do share a look. But it's short and he can't read a single thing on their expressions, and when his father looks back at him he smiles ever so slightly and says, "That's perfectly alright with us, Draco. Please continue."_

….  
_**END FLASHBACK**_  
….

"Yes," Draco says. "Why?"

"We were having a silent laugh. We knew you were gay a long time ago. Seeing you in your everyday life...well, it is not very difficult to figure it out."

Draco cocks an eyebrow. "Another reason I'm glad I don't have friends over. What do I do?"

His mother chuckles. "Oh, a lot of little things. Do you remember, before you went to Hogwarts, when you always wanted to be one of three things for Halloween every year? A leather-clad band singer, a cube of cheese, or a fairy."

Borgin snorts. "I don't remember the cheese costume incident."

"Of course not! I never let it happen."

"Cheese?" Draco sputters, and then he gives an embarrassed frown. "Oh, yeah, I remember that. I wanted to be Swiss or bleu..."

Borgin laughs as his mother continues: "Yes, well, there's more. You've always been concerned about your weight—never muscles—and unsightly blemishes, especially those on the face, and you've absolutely refused for the last five years to let anyone go shopping for things concerning your hair and any lotions you'll be using unless you're with them."

Draco blushes. "That doesn't make me gay. I'm just...pampered."

"Congratulations then, Draco," says a voice from the door of the store. "You have managed to pamper yourself onto a whole new level."

Draco leaps to a standing position, Jill and the blanket dropping to the ground, Borgin's head snaps up from the spot Draco's had been, and his mother whirls around with the ruffles of her dress twirling out enough to make Snape and his bat-like robes jealous.

"You must get a bell for your door, Borgin," Draco's mother says.

"Oh yes, Narcissa," Borgin says. "I was planning on it."

Both of the adults draw their wands, but Draco interjects: "Wait!" he yells. "They're okay!"

For the two intruders happen to be Fred and George Weasley.

Borgin and his mother look at him quizzically, but Draco just heads quickly around the counter and over to the twins.

"Fred, what are you doing here?" Draco asks him with a bright smile. "Oh, and hello, George."

George nods with a little smile, but Fred leaps forward and envelopes Draco in a bear hug.

"Draaacooo!" he says happily. "I was so worried! I don't know you as well as George knows Harry so I don't get to see everything!" He sets him down. "Is everything alright?"

Draco blinks at him. "Not that I'm not happy to see someone doing their best to take care of me or anything, but I have no idea what you mean by seeing everything."

Fred pales, and George says, "I _told_ you. Honestly, Fred, you saw it in my head and you _still_ didn't believe it."

"Pardon?" Draco asks. "What about seeing it in his head?"

"I told him that I haven't told you yet," George grins.

"Told me what?"

"You'll be told later."

"George!"

"What? You're _his _friend, not mine."

Draco sputters angrily.

"Harry knows," Fred says, resting a hand on Draco's shoulder to calm him down. "And so does...well, it's no fun that way. It's called the Hidden Tongues, and if you can talk to Harry then you can know."

"Sorry," Draco says. "But I'm staying in here forever. So I'll never know.

The twins both shrug. "Suit yourself," George says.

They turn to go, but Draco grabs Fred's sleeve, ultimately causing George to stop as well as Fred. "Help me," he whispers. "I can't keep running from him. I'm not afraid of my parents anymore, but I'm afraid of what he's going to say to me after all of this. I'm afraid that he won't want me back. I know what I've got to do. It's just...I'm afraid to do it."

Both boys snort. "He still wants you," Fred says.

"Meet him on the train," George suggests. "We won't be there to help you, but I think you'll do it easy."

Draco frowns. "Just...just walk into the compartment he's in and say hello?"

"I don't think plain old 'hello' will go too well. Say 'hello Harry', or even just his name."

"Or maybe say that you'd like to speak to him with a really seductive face," Fred adds.

"No!" George says. "No, Harry would not like that. Well, not the first part. The seductive face will probably go well. It depends what he's doing at the time. Say his name like that if he's just with his friends."

Fred smiles. "See? I can help when it comes to Potter."

George turns to Fred with a small glare. "You know it doesn't work that way."

"Yeah it does. We just don't let it."

"Although things do slip on occasion... It's funny the stuff I hear about Ron sometimes."

"And I'm appalled at what you and Gin like to talk about..." Fred says, crinkling up his nose.

George shrugs. "You're the one who listens in on us."

"Pardon me," Draco's mother says, stepping up next to Draco. "You are Fred and George Weasley?"

"Indeed we are, Mrs. Malfoy," George says, shaking her hand politely. He hasn't met Narcissa yet, and first impressions are most important. "I'm George, and my brother here is Fred."

"It is wonderful meeting both of you," she says with a small smile. "I understand you have done a great deal to help my son."

"_Loads_," they twins grin together.

"Thank you," she says with a nod. "I will go as far as to say that you have saved a life."

"Yeah, we're pretty good at that," Fred says with a warm smile.

"You are the Gryffindor?" she asks him.

"I am."

"Do you visit your old House-mates often?"

"Well, I certainly try to. I have a younger brother in there, in the same year as Draco, so my head will at least be there via Floo on occasion."

"Good." Draco's mother scratches her nose. "Thank you."

The twins are smart, and they understand that this means they should leave now.

"Thanks for not killing us on first sight," Fred says, dipping his head.

"Yeah, that was swell," George chirps.

And then they take each other's hands and disappear out of the door.

"You have strange friends," Borgin says from his spot still behind the counter.

"Only Fred is my friend," Draco says, walking over to him. "George is an acquaintance."

"Well he seemed to know a lot about the situation..."

"That's because he's _Harry's_ friend. Not to mention Fred's boyfriend, so we're kinda forced to see each other."

"How draining," his mother says. "But in any case, let us go, Draco. We still have more shopping to do."

Draco pales. "But, Harry—"

"Was taken back to the Weasley's home. Mrs. Weasley is getting his supplies."

"Well in that case!" He skips to the door.

"Don't forget Jill, dear," his mother coos.

"Jill!" Draco exclaims. He runs over, picks up the bear, and hugs it tightly. "Come on, darling. We have books to buy." He pats the bear on the head before putting it into his mother's bag along with the blanket. They'll appear back in his chair the next time that it's opened.

"So gay," Borgin says as he turns Draco's seat back into a cupboard.

"Hmm?" Draco says to him.

"Huh? Oh, oh, nothing." Borgin busies himself with organizing spots on the shelves via levitation with his wand from his spot behind the counter.

"Okay," Draco says with a shrug.

He doesn't know why his mother is chuckling as they leave the store.

_**OoOoOoO**_

_During the same time in which Draco fled to Borgin and Burke's..._

Harry opens his eyes to see Neville and Draco's mother leaning over him.

"What happened?" he asks quietly. He still has quite a headache.

"I accidentally made you hit your head on the door and knock yourself out," Neville says, eyes full of remorse, "and then Mrs. Malfoy fixed your bleeding skull. When she started to revive you, Draco ran off somewhere in that direction." He points towards Knockturn Alley.

His eyes burn, not from anger, but from tears threatening to escape.

"Excuse me, Mrs. Malfoy?"

"Yes?" she asks.

"First off, thank you."

"You are welcome."

"Second, can you knock me back out and then carry me back to the Burrow where I can sleep for a few years?"

"No," they say together. Then Neville continues, "But _I_ willcarry you."

And that's just what he does. They said goodbye to Narcissa (who first goes back into Madam Malkin's instead of going after her son), and Neville carries him into the first store with a fireplace, and they used the Floo powder to get back into the Burrow.

Even though Harry is skinny and rather short, he's a sixteen year old boy and therefore automatically heavy—but Neville holds him in his arms like he weighs less than a sack of potatoes. He had even somehow thrown the Floo powder into the fire without Harry's help.

"Merlin, you're strong," Harry says as Neville carries him over to the stairs. "I've never noticed before."

"You've been preoccupied for a long time," Neville replies. "'Sides, I'm not that strong. You're just light." And then he proceeds to run up the stairs two steps at a time.

"You're just being modest," Harry mumbles. He's tired; bleeding from the back of the skull does that to you, no matter if you're healed or not.

"Nonsense," Neville says, but Harry sees his smile as he sets him onto the bed he's been sleeping in.

"You _are_ being modest," Harry says, leaning up slowly to take off one of his shoes.

Neville shrugs and takes off the other. "Doesn't matter."

"Whatever you say," Harry says, pulling his shirt over his head. When he looks up at Neville he sees he's being warmly smiled at.

"Exactly," Neville says, pulling the blanket out from under Harry, who frowns at his warmth being taken away. But Neville continues: "Lay down and I'll fluff it over you."

"Oh," Harry says, smiling now that he knows what's going on. He gets into a comfortable position and Neville lays the blanket over him.

"Thanks," Harry says.

"Yeah, anytime," Neville says, walking to the doorway.

"Neville, I'm serious."

Neville turns around. "Huh?"

"Thank you. For everything."

Neville smiles, but Harry can tell that he's actually a bit embarrassed. "You're welcome," he says quietly.

"I don't know why it took me so long to figure out," Harry continues, "but you're always there for me. I'm sorry I never turned to you for anything—especially not my sexual orientation. I should have told you about my being gay right away."

Neville's face started going red right about then, but Harry presses on.

"I've just got this feeling that, if we each performed the Hidden Tongues on each other, you would be able to read _everything_ about me, but I couldn't even read half of you. I don't know half of you as well as I'd like to know, and I like you less than half as well as you deserve."

Neville blushes more, but Harry still goes on: "I want to change that this year. You're my closest friend after George—sorry, but I can't deny that—and I don't even know you're middle name. That's got to change, alright?"

Neville looks up shyly. "Okay."

Harry frowns. "You don't sound like the idea appeals to you. We don't have to if you do—"

"No!" Neville says, eyes wide in...fear? "No, I would love it. I just...I didn't know what to say. It was all that came to me."

Harry grins. "How about '_Why yes, Harry, I would. It's one of my greatest dreams, all of that, since I'm so deeply in love with you and whatnot_.'"

Neville turns the same shade as the red of Gryffindor House. "Why yes, Harry, I would. It's one of my greatest dreams, all of that, since I'm so deeply in love with you and whatnot."

"There we go," Harry says, pulling the blanket up to his neck. "Honestly, Neville, I don't understand why you're so shy all of the sudden. Slytherin's aren't shy."

Neville suddenly yanks open the door. "I've got to go let everyone know where we are. You still need certain supplies; I'll ask Molly and Hermione to get them. I'll be back soon."

"I...okay, I'll try to stay awake for you."

Neville turns to look at him. His face has gone down to a light shade of pink now, and he's grinning. "Yeah right you'll stay awake. Goodnight, Harry." He starts to shut the door, but then opens it again. "By the way, my middle name is Franklin."

When he shuts the door for real, Harry manages to stay awake for about two minutes before he passed out.

_**OoOoOoO**_

_After Neville lets Molly know where Harry is and helps her buy all of his supplies..._

Neville opens the door to Harry's room with perfect silence. And there's Harry, out cold on his bed. The blanket has been pushed down to reveal about half his chest, and one of his arms is hanging off the edge.

With a warm smile and a roll of his eyes he enters the room to fix up Harry's sleeping position.

But he doesn't get very far. Only to the side of Harry's bed, where he ends up just standing there, watching Harry sleep.

He's watched Harry sleep before, but not like this. It's been months since he's been able to just stare at Harry before, without somebody giving him a weird look as to what on Harry has his attention so rapt.

He's gotten taller, and his muscles have perked. His fingers twitch a lot in his sleep—they always have—and Neville can see his muscles rolling in his arms even from something as little as that. His chest rises three inches every time he breathes, rolling as well as his arms. His ribs are visible, but in a good way; in a way that shows how strong he is, but how light he is as well, showing that he's a true Quidditch Seeker. His arms are tan, but his chest is pale, and his face is slightly flushed.

_I wonder if he's cold_, Neville thinks. He begins to reach out a hand to touch one of the places on Harry's chest, but quickly draws it back. _No! Harry would be mad at me for watching him like this, let alone touching him in his sleep..._

So he continues to only watch.

"It's impolite to stare, you know," says a voice at length from the doorway, but Neville doesn't even flinch. He knows its George.

"Shh," he says quietly. "You'll wake him."

"Come on, Neville," George says softly. "Let him alone."

Neville sighs, and then nods, all not turning away from Harry. With quick and light movements he puts Harry's arm back on the bed and then straightens the blanket out. Wishing he could kiss Harry goodbye, Neville turns and walks passed George, who shuts the door silently behind him.

"I'm sorry," George says after they stand there for a while. "I know how you feel; I can read it."

"S'okay," Neville says. "S'not your fault."

"It's not Malfoy's fault, either. Harry had his eye on him the moment he saw him with Ron, Parkinson, and Crabbe...and he wanted him even more when he refused his hand."

"And Harry always gets what Harry wants."

George rolls his eyes. "And here I thought you knew him."

Neville sighs. "I'm being unfair, I know. It's just...watching for over five years the one you love pursue another? It's not fun."

George nods. "Yeah, I know how you feel there, too. But we can't all get what we want—including Harry."

"He'll get Draco, though, and then where will I be?"

"He'll get Draco because Draco wants him too. And you'll be right where you've always been."

Neville frowns. "Thank you, George, for that lovely bout of reassurance."

George shrugs. "Just layin' out the facts."

"I don't like the facts."

"You'll get used to it."

"I am, really."

George sighs. "Come on, Neville. Mum's back with all of the supplies and I want to make sure she didn't get anything hideous or buy Harry's things without his money."

"She didn't. I was there."

"You left a little early, though."

Despite himself, Neville chuckles. "I guess I'll go and help you, then."

"That's the plan."

_**OoOoOoO**_

Inside the bedroom, Harry listens to George and Neville retreat from outside of the door. Harry knew that George knew that he had been listening in on his conversation with his fellow sixteen-year-old. But why did he let Harry listen? Was it to finally answer Harry's question about the mystery reason Neville was so annoyed with him? It would explain it... That and why Neville was being so shy earlier. And Harry had made him say that he was madly in love with him!—when he secretly _was_!

Harry throws his arm over his face and groans.

_I'm an idiot_, he thinks. _I should go die in some remote hole._

But instead he goes back to sleep, deciding that he'll pretend he hadn't heard a thing; he'll just go on with the reformed friendship and hope Neville never finds out that he knows.

Ever.

* * *

References: 1. _"I know what I must do. It's just...I'm afraid to do it."_  
Draco's sentence is from _The Fellowship of the Ring_ movie, and it's the exact same as how Frodo says it.

/

A/N: I admit a teddy bear and wanting to wash him by hand does not make someone gay, but they could be contributing factors, so whatever. But even if they're not, this is my story, so I do what I want.


	11. Year 6, Part I

**Year Six, Part I: The Glittering Rubbish Bin**

Beginning chapter A/N's: This chapter is dedicated to those of you who recycle. Thank you for doing for the world what I'm way to lazy to do!

* * *

"Oh, Harry, I'm going to _miss_ you!" Molly says, squeezing Harry tightly around the middle. "I swear, if you go through one more near-death experience I'm going to kill you myself!"

"Hey!" Ron says beside Harry and his mother. "You didn't say that to be during _my_ hug!"

"That's because you were safe and sound in Gryffindor tower, stupid nub!" George says, bobbing his youngest brother on the head.

"Oh, leave him alone, George," Fred says, bobbing his boyfriend on the head in return.

George turns and frowns at Fred. "Well it's true."

"Either way."

"Hey!" Ron says to Fred. "You're supposed to be on my side!"

Fred only shrugs.

"Come on, guys," Gin says, prying Molly off of Harry. "We're going to miss the train if we keep standing around here arguing with each other."

"Ginny!" Molly squeals, pulling her daughter in for a hug. "The only reason I haven't killed you is because you went to protect Harry! BUT DON'T DO IT AGAIN!"

"Molly, please," Arthur says, patting his wife on the shoulder. "You're attracting the attention of some rather strange looking people."

"Oh, who cares?" Gin says, pushing away from her mother. "We've attracted enough of them already; might as well add to the group, eh?"

Neville chuckles beside Harry and George. "She's got a point."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Hermione says, suddenly showing up beside Ron, Greg beside her. "Enough with the goodbyes already. We saved everyone a seat and who knows if anybody will have tried taking it already. I don't feel like hexing anybody on the first day of school."

With reluctance from Molly, everybody makes their way onto the Hogwarts Express for their trip to the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

George and Fred follow Harry, Neville, Hermione, Greg, and Gin onto the train while Molly and Arthur head back to the car.

"Harry," George says, pulling him away from everybody else. Harry sees Neville quick turn around and watch them disappear into an empty compartment.

George closes the door and draws down the shades. "You're a monster," he says, sitting down across from him.

Harry knows he's talking about the fact that he's been pretending he didn't overheard the conversation between George and Neville.

"What was I _supposed_ to do?" Harry sputters, holding his arms out in front of him. "Just go up to him and tell him that I heard it? _Oh hey, Neville. Just wanted to let you know that I found out the other day that you've been secretly in love with me. Sorry, but I don't love you—never have, probably never will. I love the bloke I've pretty much loathed all of these years instead, because why not? Anyway, how are you doing lately?_ Don't be thick, George! And besides, it's not like you helped either! You're the one that let the conversation continue!"

George grins at Harry. "Alright, you passed. When are you going to tell him, though? 'Cause you've got to."

Harry gives an exasperated sigh. Of course George _was_ just being thick—what else would he be?

"I heard that," George says, pushing Harry's hands back down to his sides.

"I don't know when I'll tell him," Harry says, ignoring George's second sentence. "If my fake sentence there didn't let you know how bad I am at this, you've got to give me a better idea."

"Just tell him."

Harry gives George a _you've got to be kidding me_ look.

"I'm serious," George says. "Just go up to him and say that you overheard it and that you're sorry you haven't said anything about it."

"He'd kill me!"

"No he wouldn't. I don't know him as well as I know you, but I know that he would rather you just tell him. And sooner than later, I might add."

Harry sighs. "You know I'm not going to tell him right away."

George rolls his eyes. "Or maybe ever."

"Or maybe ever," Harry repeats with a nod.

"Well, anyway, I gotta go. As much as I want to take care of you, Neville, and the bouncing ferret, I'd really rather not show up at Hogwarts again. The learning atmosphere makes me choke."

They hug each other tightly and George kisses Harry's cheek before they exit the compartment, heading in opposite directions.

"There you are," Gin says as Harry enters their compartment. "Want a chocolate frog?"

"Sure," he says with a shrug and sits between Neville and the window, across from Gin. Hermione is by her and Greg is between Hermione and the door.

He eats the frog in one bite and then hands the card to Greg.

"I still need Snape's great grandfather," he says, taking the card. "Apparently he was some intense vampire named...well, something that stars with a T or a C, anyway."

Hermione cocks an eyebrow. "You mean Snape has a bit of vampire blood?" She lowers the eyebrow. "And here I wondered why he buys his cloaks three sizes too flowing."

The compartment bursts into laughter apart from Hermione, who just smirks as she reaches for something in her bag.

They all love Snape, and he loves them in return (though not so much Harry since he hated his father and all of their friends when they were all...alive), but you just can't resist making fun of the professor. His hair's always long and greasy, his nose is huge, and his cloaks are in fact three sizes too "flowing" on him. Hence why Harry wanted to get cloaks like his—though only now did he realize how funny it was that he was doing it to dress up as a vampire.

Hermione ends up pulling her Slytherin robes out of her bag, so the other four pull out theirs as well and then disperse to change, the three boys and two girls going their opposite directions.

Harry knows Greg will want to get back to the compartment to be with Hermione (they don't like each other, as far as Harry knows, but they've been best friends since the beginning), so he takes as long as possible because he also knows that Neville will take forever as well to stay with _him_.

And that's just what happens.

"Neville," Harry says right as they're each done getting dressed.

He barely gets the name out. He's really going to do this.

"Yeah?" Neville replies.

Harry's mouth doesn't move.

_Just tell him; just do it. George knows everything; George knows best._

"You okay, Harry?" Neville asks.

"I heard," Harry chokes out without a pause.

"Heard what?"

"When you were talking to George. You woke me up when you were fixing my arm and I heard you through the door."

Neville's face goes white, but he tries to conceal it. "Wait, when was this?"

"The day we went shopping. After you brought me back."

"Huh. I don't remember talking to George about anything. You must have been dreaming. Anyway, come on before Gin and the others wonder where we are." He starts to go back to their compartment.

"Neville," Harry says, grabbing the other boys' hand.

Neville stops but doesn't turn.

"Neville, please," Harry says. "Please don't start lying to me now. I'm sorry I didn't tell you right away. I was...well, not to sound like a certain Gryffindor, but I was scared. I didn't know how to tell you."

Neville still doesn't turn, but says, "That's why George pulled you away, then? To talk to you about me?"

"No, not really. He wanted to make sure I told you that I knew. So here I am."

And then Neville finally turns, the colour back in his face. "And?"

Harry lets go of Neville's hand. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Neville actually chuckles. "And how was I supposed to tell you, exactly? Just waltz up and ask you on a date while you were watching Malfoy during Potions, or maybe while you were off in a classroom with George?"

Harry's own face goes white.

"Oh yeah, I knew about those. All of us do. It's hard to miss. But that's not the point. The point is you're being very daft suggesting that I should have just _told_ you, so don't be."

Harry frowns and decides to not care that everybody knows that he and George used to...go off together. "It would have been better than keeping it secret."

"For you, maybe, but not for me. What a rejected that would be. It would have made our friendship awkward for the rest of eternity."

And now Harry glares. "You don't even know what I would have said, or what I thought when I first heard it! You haven't cast the Hidden Tongues; who are you to make jokes about such an important topic?"

"Ooh, you're _angry_ with me now? Well, let's hear it, then. What did you first think?"

Harry's face softens completely. "I thought about how I had just made you say that you were in love with me; how shy you were being. I realized that you had really meant it. And then I wanted to go die in a remote hole because of it."

Neville's _watch me be all high and mighty_ aura melts away. "You really never figured it out? After all these years?"

Harry shakes his head no. "You said that I've been preoccupied for a long time. It's true."

"Good. It means I'm good at concealing things. Though I guess I should have assumed that, being a Slytherin and all."

"Why didn't you at least tell me you were gay, though?"

"Because I'm not."

"Come again?"

"It's only you, Harry."

Harry's face falls. Just like George and his liking Fred. Naturally.

"I know you don't want to hear that," Neville continues. "I know you don't love or even like me that way. I know that, even if you did, I'd still be third behind Malfoy and George. But I can't change what I feel for you, and honestly...well, I'm okay with it. As mad as I was at you, I didn't really mean it. I'm okay with being there to save you even when you don't need saving."

Harry gapes at him. "You're _okay_ with that?"

Neville shrugs. "I'm a pessimist. I assume everything will go wrong before it goes right anyway."

"Neville, I—"

"Don't. I'd rather not hear it. What would you have said, though? If I just suddenly asked...oh, let's say I asked if I could kiss you. How would that happen, exactly?"

Harry's face blanks. Would he laugh or would he let Neville kiss him? Yeah, he'd laugh.

Harry grins. "To be honest, I would"—he cuts himself off, because there, walking towards them, already in his Gryffindor robes, is Draco Malfoy.

Neville follows Harry's eyes, turning around to see him as well.

Draco is smiling, small but warm. Harry might even call it seductive, but that might be a bit much. When he stops in front of them, he gives Neville a curt nod before looking at Harry.

"Hello, Harry," he says in a voice that reflects his smile.

Neville suddenly yanks out his wand and points it at Draco's chest, giving Draco a look that Harry doesn't understand. "You've hurt him enough," he says darkly.

Draco's face falls, and Harry knows that he knows Neville is right. "Please," he whispers. "I want to make things right."

"No!" Neville says. "I didn't mean—not right now! You'll only make it worse!"

Not right now? "Neville," Harry says quietly.

Neville whirls around. "You can't," he says to Harry. "You wanted to go and _die_, Harry! In a remote hole!"

"That was because of _you_, though!"

"Well you wouldn't have found out if you had just gone to eat with me like I suggested!"

"How was I supposed to know he was in there? I would have listened if you had just told me straight out!"

"Yeah, well, I didn't, and here we are now! Please, Harry, just because I don't care doesn't mean it doesn't _hurt_."

Harry suddenly leans forward and hugs Neville hard around the neck and shoulders. "Stop it. You know I have to do this. I need to fix this just as much as he does."

Neville sighs as he wraps his arms around Harry to hug him back. "Fine then. Go. I'll see you at the Sorting."

"At the latest."

They let go of each other, and as Neville walks away without looking at Draco, Harry looks steadily _at_ Draco.

"Harry—" Draco begins, but Harry cuts him off with a raised hand: "Let's find an empty compartment."

_**OoOoOoO**_

When they do find an empty compartment at the end of the train, they close the door, shut the shades on the door window, and sit on opposite dies of the compartment from each other. Draco hopes that Neville never told Harry about his corning him on the last train ride home, because he's certainly not going to mention it himself.

"I'm still mad at you," is the first thing either of them says to the other, it coming from Harry.

"I didn't know you ever were," Draco replies quietly.

"What, you didn't assume?"

"I try not to ever assume anything. Innocent until proven guilty and all that." Draco doesn't add that he also tries not to because the last time he just assumed something he ended up being wrong. When "Ron" showed up after he left Harry and how it ended up being George...

Harry narrows his eyes.

Draco sighs. "I'm sorry."

Harry snorts. "Two words and you think it's all better?"

"No, but it still had to be said."

"I didn't want to hear it."

"Then pretend you didn't."

"But I did."

"Sucks for you, then."

Harry frowns. "You're not very good at making thing right."

"You're not so hot at it yourself."

Harry's face softens. "I'm sorry too, Draco."

Draco looks down at his hands. "You have nothing to apologize for."

"I didn't go and look for you when the hour was over. I should have."

"It would have made things worse. Just imagine the look on Ron's face when you came into Gryffindor tower, asking me to stop being afraid and kiss you again."

Harry actually laughs. "I wouldn't have cared. Some things are worth doing."

"But you didn't do it."

"It didn't even cross my mind at the time."

A small silence washes over them; the same type of silence Draco had with George way back on the day all of these apologies were made to take place. A comfortable silence.

"Harry," Draco says at length.

"Yes?" Harry says.

"Is your head okay?"

Harry nods. "Your mum made it good as new."

"It scared me to see you like that..."

"Everything scares you, you disgrace of a Gryffindor."

Draco grins but otherwise ignores Harry's comment. "I knelt down to fix you myself, but she pushed me out of the way."

Harry blinks at him. "Neville didn't tell me that. He only said that Narcissa fixed me and you ran."

"Speaking of Longbottom..."

Harry frowns. "What about him?"

"I've never seen you two hug before."

Harry blinks some more. "I...I've never thought about it."

"Well, he didn't look like it was some life-changing event for him, so I don't know."

"He wasn't even facing you."

"...from the back?"

Harry chuckles. "Okay, Malfoy. From the back."

Draco doesn't answer; just stares down at his hands.

_Malfoy_, he thinks. _My_ last _name. Alright, sure, I deserve it. I won't question it. I don't like it, and I'll still call him Harry, but I won't question it._

"Draco," says a soft voice, and Draco looks up to see Harry giving him a warm, soft smile. The type of smile that shows he's beyond happy but just doesn't know how he should show it.

"Yeah?" Draco replies quietly.

"Can I...uh...sit over there with you?"

Draco smiles brightly. "Please do."

With the same smile, Harry pushes up from his chair and takes the two steps to Draco's side of the compartment. Draco's ready for him to just sit there like a normal person, but instead he crosses his legs and sits sideways facing him, still with his bright smile. Not very Slytherin-like, really.

"Can I ask another question?" he ask.

Draco wants to be a prick and say, "I don't know, can you?" but holds himself back. This conversation is too important to ruin. So instead, he says, "You may."

Harry gulps. Not because he's scared or nervous, but just because. "Who all did you tell, exactly?"

"My parents and Borgin," Draco answered without pause.

Harry blinks at him. "You mean the bloke at Borgin and Burke's?"

Draco nods.

"You're friends with him?"

"He's my second father when my first isn't around to be one. Needless to say, he's pretty much taken over the job by now."

"Oh. Uh. I did not know this."

"You do now."

"Right... Yeah, anyway, when did you tell your dad?"

"Oh, I got to visit him in Azkaban. _Oh!_ Yeah, the Minister and some Auror bloke got to hear, too..."

Harry frowns but then turns his lips back up. "Whatever. I know how that works. They're not out loud to tell anyone."

"Exactly."

"How were the...dementors?"

"Terrible, but I didn't feel anything. I just saw how my father reacted to them..."

Harry cocks an eyebrow. "You created a Patronus, then?"

Draco nods happily.

"Well, what is it?" Harry asks in the same way Draco had nodded.

"Don't laugh, okay?"

"Can I guess?"

"You won't get it...but yes."

"A lion."

"Oh, that's original," Draco says sarcastically.

"Okay, okay!" Harry laughs. "I just had to say it. Does it fly, swim, or walk?"

"Walk."

"Big or small?"

"Um...it's a baby, but if it was full grown it would be very big."

"A bear?"

"Way bigger."

"A rhino?"

"Still too small."

Harry cocks an eyebrow. "A giraffe?"

"Erm...shorter, but wider."

The other eyebrow goes up. "An _elephant_?"

"An elephant _calf_," Draco says, pursing his lips.

The eyebrows lower and he nods. "That makes sense."

Draco blinks at him. "_Why_?"

Harry shrugs. "Elephants never forget things, right? As far as I've noticed—which is pretty far—you remember everything."

"Yes, that's what mother said. I don't see why it's a baby, though..."

"Maybe it's going to grow as you grow?"

"I hope not. Can you imagine walking through the Forbidden Forest, a dementor pops up, and then an elephant barges through the trees? The dementors would be scared of the size, not the memory!"

Harry laughs, making Draco smile widely.

"What is your happy memory, anyway?" Harry asks.

"I'm not sure you want to hear anything about my father right now," Draco says, looking down at his hands.

"It doesn't matter if I want to or not. As long as it makes you happy."

"So you still want to hear it?"

"I do."

Draco leans closer to Harry and drops his voice to an almost inaudible whisper, just in case anybody is trying to overhear them. "It's that my father never got into serving the Dark Lord. Things would be a hell of a lot different, then. Most importantly to both me and my mother, that my father would have always been free, so then we would have a real...well, a whole family." He leans away.

Harry is giving him a thoughtful look. "What else do you think would be different?"

Draco shrugs. "Everything. Our Manor would be brighter. Evenings at home would mean fun and love instead of despair that the Dark Lord might show up at any time to speak with us. More people would be alive. That kind of stuff."

Harry nods. "That's what I was thinking. I don't really know how your family...lives."

"Like any other family serving the Dark Lord. Broken, hurt, and angry."

Harry frowns. "Why those things?"

"Well, as you can see, we're a little broken with father in prison. We're hurt because we're broken, and also cause..." He goes down to a whisper again. "The Dark Lord almost branded me; almost gave me a job to do. But he decided not to... I don't know what it was going to be."

Harry's eyes widen. "_Merlin_. Are you okay? I mean...after the shock, I guess?"

Draco nods. "He never even spoke to me. Mother told me. Anyway, though, we're angry because...well, why wouldn't we be angry, after all that's happened?" He sighs and looks down at his hands again. He flexes his fingers, remembering the time that George had held them and that Draco had held George's back. That was in the past, though...now Draco and George didn't like to look at each other. They never truly had, of course; that night had just been different, thanks to what had happened.

"You do that a lot," Harry says, and as Draco looks up at him he reaches out and takes his hands in his, just as George had.

"Do what?" Draco asks.

"Look down at your hands. Why do you? What do you see there? I don't like my hands."

Draco looks down, not at his hands, but at Harry's.

They look the exact same as Draco's apart from their colour. Harry's are a bit tanner, but anything is tanner than Draco. The lines in the palms are the same; the nails are the same length; they even have the same little dry spot on the backside of the left hand that Draco has on his right. Harry's hands feel just like George's did, too. All around rough, unlike his that are just rough on the fingertips. His got worse, too. With his father gone he doesn't have anybody to practice any spells with. Borgin would rather teach him how to use a sword (which Draco flat out refuses to learn; he wants to learn the bow before anything else), his mother is afraid he'll get hurt, and his Aunt Bellatrix (the most loyal of the Dark Lord's servers) would hurt him on _purpose_.

"They give me comfort," Draco finally says, turning his hands over in Harry's. "I see all of the things I've touched, both good and bad. The bad things tell me that I shouldn't touch them again, but that I've learned not to do so. The good things give me happiness and hope."

"What kind of things?"

"I remember, when I was seven years and eight months old, I stole one of mothers emerald necklaces because I wanted the jewels to decorate my room. I've always loved emeralds…they're my favorite gem. Looking back, mother knew that I had taken it, but she never said anything... I eventually put them back into the necklace and gave it back to her, apologizing profusely. She told me that I had been very naughty, and as a punishment I wasn't out loud to go shopping with her the next evening for the new decorations she wanted for the entrance hall. That gives me comfort that I learned firsthand that I shouldn't steal things." (Draco gives an internal frown. Was that really his punishment? Not being out loud to go shopping for curtains? In all honesty, he was probably gay long before he realized it…)

"And, when I was three, I got my first broomstick. It was a little thing, with little training brooms on the side so I wouldn't fall of. Father got it for me, with my full name—Draco Lucius Malfoy—carved into the side in green, outlined in gold. The wood was darkly glossed and very smooth, and the words were indented slightly. At first I thought nothing of it, but a year later, when I still had it and finally got the training brooms off the sides, I would just sit in front of the fire, my legs crossed on the floor rug, rubbing my hands over the surface." He chuckles. "I remember that rug...it was a swirling pattern of red and gold. _Gryffindor_ colours, in a _Slytherin_ house! Funny story... Anyway, I never got a splinter from it—splinters terrify me, by the way—and I traced my name so many times some of the paint started to chip off the C in Draco, both U's in Lucius, and the A, L, and Y in Malfoy. The broom eventually broke when I crashed into a tree, but it didn't bother me too much. Father bought me a better one a few weeks later. That gives me hope that my father wasn't always a...well, there are a lot of things I could say here. I guess I could say heartless, because he acts like that most of the time, but I think cold words better... You can have a heart while being cold, but you can't be cold unless you have a heart to pump the ice through your veins. So cold is the word I will use. It gives me hope to think that my father wasn't and isn't always a cold lump; he cared—maybe still cares—about me and my happiness... I don't think he knew that the Dark Lord would go this deep into everything. I think he wishes he could have backed out a long time ago. When I saw him in Azkaban he was...well, insane, for lack of a better word. He was definitely losing it; you should have seen the way he laughed." Draco's face suddenly pales. "_Harry._ Harry! My father! He spoke about, I mean, he had something to do with, I mean he was a friend with—_Merlin_, Harry! Your _dad_!"

Harry's face pales too. "First off I would like to say that your elephant calf very much suits you. You definitely remember everything. But...what about my...our dad's? What do you mean yours spoke about mine?"

Draco pulls his hands away from Harry's, stands up, and starts to pace.

"Draco, what is it?" Harry asks, looking up at him in earnest.

"I don't know if I should tell you," Draco says, continuing to space in the small space.

"No, you have to now."

"I don't know if you _want_ to hear it, though!"

"Anything about my dad I want to hear, Draco..."

Draco stops pacing and looks at Harry, torn between telling Harry and possibly making him puke or just making something up.

He decides on the former, sitting back down on the bench beside Harry. He doesn't mean to, but he sits a lot closer than Harry sat next to him. His thigh is pressed so firmly against Harry's knees and shoe tips in his crisscrossed position that he's sure there will be an indent there later.

"My father said that, in his fifth year at Hogwarts, he fell in love for the first time."

Harry blinks at him. "Go on."

"He fell in love with a first year that got Sorted into Gryffindor House. I thought four years was a bit much, but he said it didn't bother anybody. Anyway, it was...well, a he."

Harry cocks an eyebrow. "Your dad was _gay_?"

"Only for a little while. He's not anything now. Not gay or straight or whatever. Just my mother, he says."

Harry sighs. "I know four people like that, now..."

Draco tilts his hand to the left. "Who?"

He holds up his fingers and counts them off as he speaks: "George and Fred, Neville, and now your dad."

"Neville?"

"Let's not talk about Neville right now, alright? I'd rather hear about my father. When does he come into the story, anyway?"

Draco looks down at his hands, which Harry takes right away.

"That's just it," Draco says quietly. "Your father's already in the story. He's the first year my father fell in love with."

Harry's hands yank away from Draco's faster than Draco ever could have yanked his own away. "My dad was his _what_?"

"You heard me," Draco says without looking away from his hands.

Harry sighs. "Alright, I'll get over it. That's just...ugh. Please continue."

"I...really don't think I should."

"Nonsense. I can take it."

"Harry, you barely held your breakfast in after _that_. The rest is going to cause you to puke up your lungs or some other very important internal organ."

Harry is silent. "Draco," he whispers at length. "Tell me."

Draco looks away from his hands, away from Harry, and out of the window. "Your dad and my dad were gay together," he says, so quietly that he doesn't even hear himself.

But Harry hears him. Though he doesn't give the exact reaction Draco was ready for.

There's a thump behind him, and he turns around to see Harry lying on the floor, out cold.

Draco bursts into laughter, but quickly shuts himself up, realizing that Harry needs his help. He leans down to Harry and pulls him into a sitting position on the floor, his back against the bench they were sitting on and his legs bent to fit across the floor. Then he pulls out his wand and whispers, "_Rennervate_."

_**OoOoOoO**_

Harry's eyelids flicker open, and they find Draco's instantly.

"That was funny," he says, smiling drowsily. "I actually believed you enough to faint. You're funny. Really funny. Downright hilarious. What really happened? Is there anything that even has to do with my father? I bet your dad was really gay with Snape or something. I wouldn't put it past either of them." Harry laughs. "My dad! Gay! With Lucius! A Slytherin! A Death Eater! Come on, Draco, tell me the real story."

Draco just blinks at Harry, and Harry gets the point right away.

"_Oh no_," he groans. "My dad was _gay_ with your _Slytherin dad_! I'd be okay if he was gay with Sirius or Lupin, but a _Death Eater_!" He rubs his hands down his face. "And you were almost a Death Eater, weren't you? Wow..." Despite himself, Harry chuckles. "Like father, like son, eh? That's insane. I wonder when he started to love my mother..."

"Lila—I mean Lily? I think it was second or third year, because father started to fall in love with mother in his seventh year."

Harry shakes his head back and forth. "I'm never going to recover from this."

"I've already recovered. You'll be fine."

"Come here."

"Wha—"

Before Draco can finish his sentence, Harry reaches forward and takes a hold of the clothing over Draco's chest and pulls him towards him. Their lips mash together tightly, but Harry quickly fixes it to soft and light. Draco kisses him back, leaning forward on his knees and wrapping his arms around Harry's neck and shoulders.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Draco says against the Slytherin's mouth. "So, so sorry."

"I'm sorry, too," Harry says, pulling his lips away from Draco's and trailing them along the line of his chin. "Five years and one summer it took us to figure this stupid shit out, and we were missing all of _this_? What _was_ I doing without you?"

"Sulking?" Draco chokes out. Harry smiles against the spot on Draco's neck that he's started to suck on. Apparently his lips are...distracting.

"Forget being branded by _Voldemort_," Harry whispers over the wet spot of Draco's skin.

"I'm going to have to start wearing my scarf a little early, I take it."

"Mmm, yeah..."

Draco reaches up and, taking a hold of Harry's chin, pulling his mouth back to his. Harry protests at first ("But I like your neck!"), but Draco ignores him and continues to kiss Harry on the mouth. Draco eventually crawls onto Harry's lap, straddling his sides, their bodies pressed together in every possibly way. Harry's hands on Draco's hips, beneath his cloak, with a few fingers strayed beneath the fabric of his shirt and on his bare skin. Draco's right hand on the back of Harry's neck and his left tangled deeply into the tangles of dark hair, barely noticing Harry's glasses tumble off of his face and onto the floor of their compartment beside them.

Harry leans forward and starts to push Draco onto his back, but Draco suddenly flips both of them over so that Harry's on his back and Draco is above him—all without breaking the kiss and without releasing the hand on Harry's neck.

"Hey," Harry mumbles against Draco's mouth in protest.

Draco pulls away by about an inch and stares Harry dead in the eyes. "Just because you're a Slytherin doesn't mean you get to call the shots."

"Just because you're a Gryffindor doesn't mean you get to suddenly be all brave and mighty on me after all this time. You're a wimp! Slytherin's are the feral ones; _we_ do the shot calling."

"Not right now you don't."

Before Harry can protest any further, Draco kisses him again, now with the sort of ferocity only a Gryffindor can have. There are four types of ferocities, all different within each House. Slytherin's have a sarcastic ferocity, hitting at their enemies with sarcasm, wit, and other words. They don't get into fights unless they need to—fighting is the _Gryffindor's_ ferocity forte, because when they get angry they hit things. So Slytherin's kiss in a teasing way, giving them a little of this and a little of that to keep them coming back for more. Gryffindor's, on the other hand, throw every last bit of passion into their kiss, because they're the brave ones and they believe that everything should be lived to the fullest. Then there are the Ravenclaw's, who know how to get around any malice in a conversation so there are no fights, but they also know how to fit their ferocity into their conversations in such a way that other Ravenclaw's understand completely but the members of the other Houses only find themselves angry for a reason that they cannot fully comprehend. Their kisses are like a question, asking the other if it's okay what they're doing and getting away with it when the other doesn't like them without them knowing it. And finally, the Hufflepuff's ferocity is also the least effective: they don't really show any at all. Somehow being the "leftovers" they took to being the friendliest and the best at making people...get along. Their ferocity is their ability to make you feel all fuzzy inside without even knowing that it happened. Their kisses are the searching—looking for the best their partner can give them—and the friendliest, searching the other in the kindest way.

And since Draco is the one doing the kissing, the kiss is flaming with all of his and Harry's pent up passion and lust and even a little bit of hatred for all of the times they had a spat.

Harry's never kissed a Gryffindor before (aside from his and Draco's confusing kiss at the lake). It's just been George, and he's another Slytherin, so they were always just one big pile of tease. But now the tease is gone, because Harry happens to like the Gryffindor's way of kissing very much—especially with Draco.

Draco had released the hand on Harry's neck a few moments ago and placed both his hands beside Harry's hand, and his legs were still straddling Harry, but Draco was now just kneeling over him instead of sitting in his lap. Harry reaches his hands up and slides them up Draco's shirt, causing the blond to shudder.

As far as Harry can tell without looking, Draco's built almost exactly like himself. He can trace all six muscles in his lower abdomen, but also all of his ribs, showing that he's both strong and light, making him a true Quidditch Seeker (too bad he doesn't actually play it). Even just walking through the halls Harry had never been able to make out Draco's chest as plainly as he wanted to. Now he has all the time in the world, or at least enough time to trace and memorize its planes.

"Pity we're on a train without a private bed stashed somewhere," Draco whispers against Harry's mouth.

"There's no such thing as private at Hogwarts anyway," Harry says.

"Which brings up the question..." Draco stretches out and lays half on top of Harry and half off, one leg tangled between Harry's and the other just beside; one arm stretched out of Harry's chest and the other draped out to the side; his head on Harry's shoulder with his mouth beside his ear. "Are we going to pretend that we still hate each other or let the world know that we're friends now?"

Harry turns his face to Draco so that their noses are pressed together. "I say we tell the world. Not only will it be very difficult to keep fighting with you, but it'll be hilarious to see everyone's face. I mean, can you even picture Weasley's face finding out we don't actually hate each other?"

"You mean Ron?"

"Yeah, that one."

"Sort of," Draco chuckles. "He keeps coming out red as a beet and twice as mad."

"And three times as sickened. That's probably how Gin will be, too... Weasley's are so funny. Some are in your House, some are in mine; some are homosexual and some are homophobic. Ah yes, life is a funny place."

"I was not aware that life was a place."

"Oh, shut up and kiss me again."

And so he does. The platinum blond, silver-eyed Gryffindor—the picture of absolute innocence—topping the dark haired, green-eyed, feral Slytherin. Something about this picture just wasn't fair at all to Harry. Not. One. Bit.

_**XxX**_

"It's a good thing we already changed," Draco says, stroking the hair on Harry's head as he's resting against Draco's chest.

Harry chuckles. "Yeah." He pushes himself up until his face is in the crook of Draco's neck. "How much longer do we have before we get to the castle?"

"Uh..." Draco removes the arm walking down Harry's back to look at his watch. "Still another hour."

"Mmm..." He bites lightly at the skin. "How much longer before Neville comes looking for us?"

"Or Ron, for that matter... And probably not very long."

A knock rings out loud from the door.

Both boys look up with wide eyes. "You've got to be kidding me," Harry says, rolling off of Draco. "That could have been planned."

"Harry!" a voice says. "Is that you? It's Neville!"

"Really? I was expecting Cinderella," Harry says sarcastically, not loud enough to be heard through the door.

"Who?" Draco asks.

"Erm, never mind." He jumps up and opens the door a crack. "Neville, it is you! Get in here quickly or not at all."

The door slides open more and Neville comes into the compartment. His eyes dance over Draco but quickly flit away, and he takes the seat as far from the Gryffindor as possible.

"You interrupted an important conversation," Draco says in an almost joking manner, remaining on the floor.

Harry's breathe hitches and his eyes dart over to Neville as he closes the door. Neville's eyes are narrowed.

"Terribly sorry," his fellow Slytherin drawls. "What could I have _possibly_ interrupted?"

Draco frowns.

_Somebody didn't plan_ that _one out_, Harry thinks as he locks the sliding door.

"We were discussing Patronus's," Harry says, sitting down on the part of the bench that allows his leg to press against Draco's side, who in turn leans his head against him. Sure, Neville obviously doesn't enjoy the picture, but Harry's not going to lead him on.

"Exactly," Draco says, latching on to Harry's part-lie (part because they were indeed discussing them; lie because it was a long time ago). "I just told him what mine is, and he was just about to tell me his! So, Harry, what _is_ your Patronus?"

"A stag," Harry says. "It was my dads, _and_ his Animagus form."

"Oh? My dad's is an eagle owl. That's why he got one for me instead of any other owl."

Harry sighs. "That's cool. I've seen it flying around to give you mail. I've never had an owl before… What's its name?"

"His name's River."

"Creative. What's Narcissa's Patronus?"

Draco giggles. "A squirrel."

Both Slytherin's snort. "A _what_?" Harry asks.

"You heard me. Weird, isn't it? It's so..." He shakes his head. "Anyway, what was _your_ mother's?"

"I'm pretty sure my mum's was a doe. Deer's must run in the family."

Draco's face pales (which is quite a feat under the fact that he's as pale as pale can be already). "A doe?"

Harry arches an eyebrow. "Uh, yeah, why?"

"That's the same Patronus that Snape's got."

Harry coughs and Neville snorts, then Harry says, "And _how_ do you know that, being a _Gryffindor_?" But he already knows how Draco knows. Snape is pretending to still be a Death Eater, so Draco thinks he really is a Death Eater because he shows up for meetings with Voldemort all the time.

"Oh, he's, uh, good friends with my family. Always has been. I know him pretty well, to be honest."

"Speaking of Snape," Neville says, "He's the reason I'm in here right now."

Draco and Harry snap their heads over to the brown-eyed Slytherin.

"He's looking for Draco," Neville continues, "and I knew that you—Harry—would rather Malfoy go and find him then Snape find you two dong...whatever you were doing."

"Nothing!" Draco says, jumping to a standing position. He almost falls over but Harry catches him. "But it doesn't matter," he adds. "I better go see what he wants. Wish me luck?"

"Good luck!" Harry says, smiling up at him. Neville doesn't say anything, but that's expected.

And then Draco disappears out of the door, closing it hard behind him.

Harry and Neville sit in silence for what feels like forever, not looking at each other or hardly even breathing. It's not a comfortable silence. And Neville is finally the one to break it:

"So what did I _really_ interrupt?"

Harry sighs. Of course Neville had seen right through him.

"We _were_ talking about Patronus's a while ago, though..."

"Cool." (The lack of emotion in Neville's voice both impresses and discourages Harry.) "What was the real topic?"

"Uh, how much longer we had until somebody found us."

"Huh, certainly hit the nail on that one.

Harry sighs and looks out the window. "I'm sorry I left you."

He sees Neville shrug out of the corner of his eye. "It needed to be done."

"It could have waited."

"But it didn't."

"Talking to you was more important; you're like my best friend."

"Obviously it wasn't important enough since you went off with Draco anyway. But I'm glad you did; it gave me time to think."

Harry frowns at the first part of Neville's sentence. He's right, of course. _I'm a bastard_, Harry thinks, and then says out loud, "What about?"

"Things for the mind of only George and me. What were you going to say earlier?"

"Huh?"

"If I asked you to kiss me, what would you have said?"

"Oh! Erm…I'm sorry, but I would have laughed. Then I would have asked who dared you to ask me and how much they were paying you..."

Neville gives a sad smile. "Yeah, that would have hurt. Badly. I'd say George and then quick tell him or make sure he had heard me think it before you saw him again."

"Wait a second...you knew, didn't you? About the Hidden Tongues thing?"

Neville colours a little and nods.

Harry sighs. "Since when?"

"Second year. I'm closer to George than you think."

"Yeah...yeah, you are. Wow. Why didn't he tell me about it?"

"There was no need. I mean, there wasn't a greater purpose behind telling you. He told me so I knew I had somebody to talk to about...you. I've never told anybody about my loving you. People just seem to find out."

"Hehheh," Harry says awkwardly.

"What would you say if I asked you now? Now that you know everything and that you and Draco are...on each other's good sides again."

Harry sighs. "I'd say that I would do it, but I would rather not because I would feel like I'm betraying Draco somehow. We're not, like, officially dating now or anything...but still."

Neville starts to fidget. "So is that a yes or a no?"

Harry starts to raise only one eyebrow but instead raises both. "Oh! You mean, you're really asking." It isn't a question.

Neville nods awkwardly.

Harry sighs and Neville quickly starts speaking: "Obviously you don't have to if you don't want to, and I understand how you could feel like you're betraying Draco, and that you'd maybe feel somewhat like a...male slut...but I wanted to do it once before you became a real _thing_ with him where I'll never have you even for just a thing like you and George had."

Harry purses his lips. "As horrible as this sounds, you can't tell anybody if we do. I'll probably tell Draco later so he doesn't find out on his own and get hurt himself, but...yeah."

"And it doesn't have to be some great big kiss, either," Neville adds. "No tongue or teeth or even opening our mouths. Just an...awkward kiss, for lack of a better word."

Harry sighs. "I really don't know what I should say, Neville. If I say yes I won't be able to put hardly any feeling into because I just don't have any of those feelings...and if I say yes it's going to make this situation exceedingly awkward."

"It _is_ exceedingly awkward."

Harry actually chuckles. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

"So I'll just wait in the back corner for Draco to dump you like a bitch, then?"

Harry starts to nod, but decides the opposite. "One kiss won't hurt," he says, looking at Neville with a very _small_ smile.

Of course, Neville's returning smile is somewhat bigger. "Really? You're actually saying yes?"

"Yes, and if you don't get over here in two seconds I'm going to change my mind."

Neville is sitting beside Harry in under one second.

"I don't know how this is going to work," Harry says, Neville only a few inches away from his face in the position they end up in. "I've never had a...planned kissed before."

Neville doesn't say anything; he just leans in and presses his lips to Harry's.

The kiss is, indeed, very awkward. They do open their mouths, but nothing aside from their lips are involved. Harry does try to put some feeling into the kiss, because he's pretty sure this is Neville's first, and he doesn't want it to be bad—and he thinks that he does a pretty good job at it, too, judging the fact all he can think about is Draco. And Neville's not that bad of a kisser himself; nothing compared to the silver-eyed Gryffindor, though.

Neville eventually ends the kiss, pulling away with a warm smile on his face. "Thanks," he says quietly.

Harry nods and wipes his mouth on his sleeve. "I'm sorry to say that you're actually a pretty good kisser."

Neville tilts his head in question. "Sorry?"

Harry nods. "Sorry because your lips are being wasted on the air when all you want is me."

Neville looks at the door. "Oh."

"I'm so—"

"Don't even think about it, Harry. If I'm not sorry then you don't get to be either."

"But I don't understand how you're _not_ sorry!"

Neville shrugs. "That's not my fault. But hey, Hermione, Greg, and Gin are probably flipping out without us. Shall we be heading back, now?"

Harry sighs. "Yeah, yeah, we shall."

And so they do.

_**OoOoOoO**_

_As Draco first left the compartment containing Harry and Neville..._

Draco slides the door closed hard behind him. He doesn't want to leave Harry alone with Neville—Harry was his, no matter if it wasn't officially said or not! He would have to explain that to his green-eyed Gryffindor the next time he saw him. But he has to leave them, because it's either that or letting Snape find him with members of his opposite House, and that would get _very_ awkward, _very_ fast.

It only takes him walking past three compartments (one of them containing Granger, Goyle, and the two youngest Weasley's, awkwardly enough—thankfully he was away fast enough before they noticed him in his looking through their window in his search for the secretly-a-Death Eater professor) to find Snape, asking a group of terrified looking second year Hufflepuff's if they had seen Draco.

"Professor Snape," Draco says, and Snape whirls at him, his cloak spreading out and reminding Draco like a bat out of hell. "Longbottom said you were looking for me," Draco continues.

"Yes," Snape says. "I was, but no longer. So nice of you to..." His lips curl. "Show up. Please follow me."

He spins on his heels, causing his cloak to billow out again, and starts down the opposite direction of Draco, who follows after him at a jog to keep up with the long-legged Slytherin Head of House.

They end up at the very end of the train, where one of the train compartments has a plethora of stickers over where the window would be (there isn't one at all). "KEEP OUT" and "ENTER AND DIE" and "NO STUDENTS (apart from Head Boys and Girls) OUT LOUD" and "PROFESSOR'S AND TRAIN EMPLOYEES ONLY" and (Draco's personal favorite) "DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT TRYING HARRY POTTER WE WILL STILL DETECT YOU".

Snape slides open the door in a magnificent manner and then walks inside like he owns the place. Draco follows slowly behind him, but once he steps inside and sees that the compartment is empty he relaxes.

"The door, Malfoy," Snape says, sitting at—Merlin, is that a crystal table? As Draco shuts the door he realizes that this compartment looks nothing like the ones the students are supposed to use. It's obviously been enchanted to have a lot more space than the train would really allow, there being velvet benches surrounding the entire room (each a different colour along each wall: gold, silver, bronze, and black), two crystal tables with black leather rolling chairs surrounding both of them, cupboards on a few of the walls holding who knows what, four bouquets of flowers, two on each end of the crystal tables (red roses for Gryffindor, green orchids for Slytherin, bluebells for Ravenclaw, and yellow tulips for Hufflepuff—all very unoriginal, but nonetheless), and a gigantic curved jar in a corner filled with what looks like little sparkles floating around in the colours of gold, silver, bronze, and black.

Oh, and on the ceiling is the Hogwarts emblem. He sees his name in the motto: "Draco Dormiens Numquam Titillandus". _Never tickle a sleeping dragon._

_That's exactly right_, Draco thinks. _I can't stand it my beauty sleep is interrupted._

"Sit," Snape says, pointing to the gold bench.

Draco walks over and curls his legs up in a crisscrossed position as Harry had done in the last compartment he was in. "Nice place yuh got here," he says. "I didn't even know it existed."

"Thank you," Snape says, "but I didn't decorate it. The Head Boys and Girls did when you were in your fourth year. It used to just be a lot of crystal, and I must admit that I liked it so much better that way—I happen to not be able to see the colour yellow, so I do not enjoy having it in my presence. That and all of this red makes me sick, and blue is just a sad colour—not even evil, just sad. But that is not the reason I brought you here."

"Then what, pray tell, is the reason?" Draco asks, holding back the urge to say it sarcastically. He and Snape happen to get along very well (he being a good friend of his family and all), but something about this just makes Draco want to mock him. Snape isn't his least favorite professor, even being the Head of Slytherin House, but something's...off.

Snape curls his lips again. "I have two messages from your mother."

Draco's entire body crumples. "Something from your own lips or a letter?"

"Two letters." Snape reaches into his cloak and pulls out two rolled pieces of parchment tied with dark green ribbons. "The smaller one we'll have to burn as soon as you've finished reading it, but the other you may keep." He tosses them both to Draco, who catches them and, setting down the larger of the two, tears it open the smaller without another word or thought.

/

_Darling Draco,  
I am sorry I had to send Severus to deliver this. I know how much you dislike him at times, but he is the only one I trust who can get it to you while you are at school and then do away with it before anybody else can read it.  
Your father has escaped from Azkaban. Obviously it was with help from the Dark Lord and other Death Eaters not captured as he had been, but it was only just after I returned home after dropping you off at the train that I opened today's _Daily Prophet_ and saw the news. I will assure you that I have not seen him yet, nor have I heard anything from him. When and if I do I will not be sending another letter with Snape, because even his letters are being read when inside of the school grounds. By the way, will you please tell him I apologize again for treating him like my own personal owl? I know how he resents it but does not want to refuse me.  
That is all I have to say in this letter. I wrote two so that you could keep one of them, but this one you must do away with as quickly as possible so nobody...untrustworthy gets a hold of it. My second letter will make it look like this one was never written.  
With deep love, your mother, Narcissa Malfoy_

/

Draco's fingers go limp and the letter floats aimlessly to the ground. His father was free? And he hadn't even said hello to him? Then again, he did not know for how long he had been free... It could have been sometime this morning, before the _Daily Prophet_ was put into the public, and Draco had just been too busy for his father to come and see him...

With a sigh he reaches over for the second note, and in the process of his reach Snape points his wand at the letter at Draco's feet and says, "Incendio." The letter bursts into flame at Draco's feet and is reduced to ashes. With another spell Draco doesn't know from Snape's lips, the ashes whirl up and into the jar filled with floating glitter. It shreds itself more and more and more until it too is glitter, adding to the silver in the jar.

_Ah_, Draco thinks. _It's a rubbish bin. And depending which House your from that's the colour glitter it becomes. How creative._

He unrolls the second note more slowly since he'll be able to keep this one as long as he likes.

/

_Darling Draco,  
I have many things to say to you in this letter! Well, if three can be considered many.  
First, I have decided to bring you home for Halloween this year—although of course you can owl me to let me know if you would rather stay at school. Your cousins, Felicia and Remus, want to go Trick-or-Treating with you, if that is alright with you. You do not have to wear a costume, being sixteen, but if you do you can let me know what you would like to be and I will have it ready by the time you are home. Or, honestly, you can buy one for yourself if you would like. You are sixteen; I do not need to do everything for you. You can bring Ron or somebody else, if you would like. I know you never have anybody over, and I doubt any parents would want their children at our house, of all houses (what an awkward reputation), but I just thought I would throw out the idea. Also, Cat Tower No. 7.  
Second, I have a little assignment for you. There is a muggle book that I found in our attic a little while ago (being the only one in this gigantic manor, I have nothing better to do but do a bit of exploring) called _The Drowsy Hours_. It is just a book of bedtime poetry collected by Susan Pearson, but I know how difficult it is for you to fall asleep these days, and it thought that it might help to calm you down so that it will be easier to drift away. I will owl you the book later today. Snape already hates me for using him as an owl (I think I'll give him a pet name behind his back…how does __Sevy-poo__ sound? Yes, I think that is lovely. Tell him and I will disown you), he would destroy me if I gave him a children's bedtime poem book.  
Thirdly, and lastly, do say hello to your Weasley twin friends (I am afraid I have already forgotten their names; Gred and Forge, was it?) for me the next time you see them. I am tempted to write to them myself (after finding their true names, of course), but somehow it just doesn't seem appropriate, so I will not.  
Above all, I love you, Draco. Do have a good time at Hogwarts this year! I'm sure everything will go so much better.  
With deep love, your mother, Narcissa Malfoy_

/

(Draco had had to use _Cat Tower No. 7_ many times before. He and his mother had thought up ridiculous code words/phrases for things they didn't want anybody to know about. _Cat Tower_ meant that they would not be going home that night because it was dangerous, and adding the _No. 7 _meant that place they were staying instead was thier beach house on the coast.

Draco smiles warmly at the letter, and then rolls it back up and sticks it into one of the inside pockets of his robes. "Is that all?" he asks Snape.

Snape nods silently.

"Mother says she's sorry for treating you like her own personal owl."

"Is she?" Snape asks, and Draco swears his black eyes actually glisten.

_Damn_, Draco thinks. _There is a difference_.

And then he nods happily.

"Well, she should be." And the glisten is gone.

"Well, she is. I hope you're happy."

Snape only gives a single curt nod as Draco stands and makes his way to the door to leave the compartment.

"You do know that she'll probably send another, right?" Draco asks at the door without looking back.

"Naturally."

"Good then."

He leaves, hoping that he'll never have to see this room ever again.

* * *

References: 1. _The Drowsy Hours, Poems for Bedtime_, collected by Susan Pearson really is a book, by the way. I own it and I love and I've read it way too many times :) (Also, this book is mentioned later in the book as well, but I'm only going to reference it here.)

2. "I don't know half of you as well as I'd like to know, and I like you less than half as well as you deserve."  
Harry's sentence is from a line from The Fellowship of the Ring, but I changed it around a bit to fit. The original line is: Bilbo: "I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

/

A/N: 1. It's a little late to say it now, but it's assumed that Hagrid never gave Hedwig to Harry (woo, that is a _lot_ of H's!).

2. I originally didn't even know what the glittering vase thing was going to be. Just a decoration of sorts, but then I realized if Snape only _threw away_ the burnt letter then somebody could put it back together…so I turned it into glitter! The solution to everything! =D

3. Narcissa might seem a bit too…lively…but it's for a reason! So for now, just go with it.


	12. Year 6, Part II

**Year Six, Part II: Fruit Flavored Pudding**

Beginning chapter A/N's: This chapter is dedicated to my Bible History teacher of the first semester of my tenth grade, because without him I wouldn't have thought up the names for three of the most important house elves :P Also he's just downright amazing so why the hell not?

* * *

The Sorting over and the feast about halfway over, Harry hears somebody calling his name from somewhere behind him.

"Harry! Oh Haaaarrrryyyyy!"

Harry turns around, mouth full of some sort of purple pudding stuff, to see Draco waving at him from the Gryffindor table. Well, not at the table; he's more on the opposite side of it, walking around it and towards Harry.

Harry waves back happily, feeling the burn of at least half of the inhabitance of the Great Hall on both him and Draco. When Draco gets to him he politely pushes Hermione to the side to squeeze in beside Harry. "Some Sorting, huh?" Draco says to Harry with a bright smile. "A whole bunch of 'we must unite and stick together' and blah, blah, blah. Did you know that I wrote my own song for the Sorting Hat in my third year?"

"Really?" Harry asks, continuing to ignore all of the eyes on him and the pale Gryffindor. "Do you have it memorized?"

"I happen to, yes."

"Can I hear it?"

"Only if I don't have to sing it..."

"Damn," Harry says, laughing, "I was hoping to hear some _good_ wizard music. Muggle stuff is much livelier. Anyway, go ahead and speak it."

Draco clears his throat, and then, loud and clear enough to most likely be heard all the way at the staff table, he says his poem in a voice so pure and perfect Harry doesn't even finish swallowing the food in his mouth:

/

"_Aye, I am the Sorting Hat,  
and I'm here to judge your colours,  
To see where you belong in,  
with which sister and which brother!_

_Dear Gryffindor, of red and gold,  
teaches well the brave it holds;  
Sweet Hufflepuff, of black and yellow,  
grasps tightly to the friendly fellow;_

_Shrewd Ravenclaw, of bronze and blue,  
prizes those who get the clue;  
And Slytherin, of silver and green,  
takes hold of those with leading genes._

_So now, my friends, which will you be?  
Is brave or wise where you belong?  
Just fit me nicely around your top,  
to see if friendly you belong;  
to see if power is where you're strong!_

/

I wrote it during one of my Divination classes to see if I could predict the old hats song. No such luck, though. Yuh like it?" He's smiling so brightly at Harry that he couldn't have said no if he wanted to—which he didn't.

"That was wonderful!" he says, sincerely meaning it. "I had no idea you had any sort of poetic inclination."

"Eh," Draco says, shrugging. "Son of a death eater, it happens."

"That's not a reason!"

"What it works, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, I suppose it doe—"

"Ooh, is that grape pudding?" Draco interrupts, eyeing the puddle of purple goop on Harry's plate. "There isn't any of that where I'm sitting!" Taking the spoon from Harry's hand he helps himself to a spoonful of Harry's plate. "Mmm," he says around his mouthful. "I love pudding and I love grapes. Grape pudding is the turn of the century, I swear. Give me your plate."

Harry doesn't even have a chance to; Draco just takes it. He even licks the plate when he's done!

_Ah_, Harry thinks, taking the plate to get more pudding for Draco. _He's doing this on _purpose_! Freaking out the rest of the school, I mean. Why didn't I think of that? No wonder I love him._

He hands the plate back to Draco, refilled with grape pudding.

And precisely at that moment, the Great Hall explodes. Not literally, of course, but the tables explode. Not very loudly, either; just the way that Hogwarts has always exploded, with whispers and accusations and questions. One of these explosions being Hermione, who leans around Draco and punches Harry on the shoulder to get his attention.

"What?" Harry says in an annoyed voice. "I was watching Draco make a mess of his face!"

"The instant we get back into our common room you have some explaining to do," she growls.

"There's not much to explain," Draco interjects around a mouthful of pudding. "So I like grape pudding—bid deal!"

"Shut up, Draco," Harry says, messing the boys' hair up with both hands.

"AH!" Draco says, setting the plate down. "My _hair_! Harry Potter, you insensitive, evil, twisted little—"

Harry kisses him to shut him up, and when he pulls away both boys burst into a loud fit of giggles.

"I swear, I've never had more fun in my life," Draco says, picking the plate back up.

"Join the club," Harry says, picking up another spoon and eating off of his plate as well. "Did you see the look on some of their faces? _Merlin_, I thought yours was funny when you walked in on...well, that one time in fifth year."

Draco laughs. "Yes, that one time in fifth year. I know exactly what you're talking about." He lowers his voice. "Did you see _Snape's_ face?"

Harry shakes his head.

"Look at it now; my back's to him, but I'm sure it hasn't changed."

Harry sneaks a glance at the staff table, and Snape's face is nowhere to be seen. Of course, some other faces are. McGonagall is green, someone Harry recognizes as a man named Horace Slughorn is gaping, Flitwick is lying face-first in his food like he had fainted, Trelawney is nodding with her closed eyes magnified behind her giant glasses, and Dumbledore is_ smiling_. There are some others, but Harry doesn't really care about them.

"Snape's not there anymore," Harry says, looking back at Draco.

"That's because he's right here," says an unpleasant voice behind him.

Draco looks up and Harry turns around to see Snape in all of his vampire glory towering over both of them, his eyes like black daggers.

"Well howdy, professor," Harry says. "What brings you here?"

"Come," Snape growls. "Now."

"No need to be so rude about it," Draco says, taking one last bite of pudding. "It only takes a 'please'."

Snape only glares before he turns around, his cloak billowing out behind him, and heads towards the doors leading out of the Great Hall.

Harry turns back to Draco and shrugs at him, and both boys get up and away from the Slytherin table, almost every eye (most of the first years don't see anything weird about it since they don't know how everything works yet) trailing after them. Harry has his hands shoved in his pockets and is walking like a true Slytherin, but Draco is suddenly _skipping_ past him with his arms waving back and forth, making him look like a little girl with short hair.

When they exit the Great Hall, Snape leads them only a short distance down the corridor.

"May I ask," he says, fuming, "what exactly _that _was all about?"

"Merlin!" Draco says, throwing his arms up. "It was only a bit of grape pudding! It's not the end of the world!"

"Draco, you're going to _die_," Harry says, but his voice betrays him since he can't stop laughing, no matter how quiet it is.

"Alright, alright, I'm done about the pudding," he says, putting his arms down and waving Harry off. "What was your question again, professor?"

"Don't repeat it," Harry says to Snape. "That was just a bit of listening to our elders."

"Your _elders_, Potter?" Snape asks.

Harry nods. "The Sorting Hat said that all of the Houses need to unite, and that's just what we're doing."

Snape's malice recedes a bit. "But why?"

"I can answer that, Severus."

Snape looks up and Harry and Draco spin around to see Dumbledore walking towards them with beautiful deep purple robes lined with stars, his pointed hat matching.

"Albus," Snape says behind the two boys. "I thought you said you would rather not get involved."

"I changed my mind," Dumbledore says, his eyes twinkling like the stars on his robes behind his half-moon spectacles. He looks first at Draco with a warm smile, and then turns to Harry and says, "Harry, dear boy, how was your summer?"

"Terrible, actually," Harry says with a bright smile.

Dumbledore arches an eyebrow. "And this is a good thing?"

"Oh, no, of course not. That's not what I'm smiling about. And before you ask, I'm smiling because the good stuff happened just today, on the train ride in."

Dumbledore lowers his eyebrow. "Ah, so soon? Feel like a little explanation?"

"What he means, professor," Draco says, stepping up beside Harry, "is that it's been since year one, but we didn't find out until the end of last year—after Harry's _adventures_, I mean—and everything sort of went...er, wrong, and we didn't have a proper conversation until the train ride."

Snape sputters incoherently until he finally gets a sentence out: "_Year one_?"

"Did I stutter?" Draco says to him.

"Don't be rude, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore says.

"Sorry, professor."

"_Merlin_," says Snape. "All this time with a false hate? And you've kept it secret all these years. Congratulations, Malfoy. Harry, though, I expected as much from you, being from _our_ House."

"Is it my understanding, Severus," Dumbledore says with a crooked smile, "that you are congratulating both boys for successfully getting most of the school to think they hate each other and causing so much trouble?"

"Well, I mean, no! Maybe..." Snape purses his lips. "Yes, but I must beg the question, _most_ of the school, Albus?"

"Of course," Dumbledore says, his eyes twinkling. "Everybody has secrets, but there are few that not at least one person knows, even by an accident."

Harry turns and sees both Draco fidgeting slightly and Snape standing so still that he must be. He would as well, but he can't think of anything George and ultimately Fred don't already know, so there's not much of a point.

"Anyway, Dumbledore says, interrupting the awkward silence he himself created, "I believe there is a chocolate truffle calling my name. Harry and Draco, you do not have to come back in if you do not wish. Feel free to wander the corridors until the regular curfew." He smiles warmly at both boys and then turns on his heels, heading back to the Great Hall.

"Does your mother know about this, Malfoy?" Snape asks, causing Harry and Draco to turn around and face him.

"Yes," Draco says. "As does father."

"Both fathers?"

Draco nods.

Snape shakes his head, whether in disappointment or from being overwhelmed, Harry isn't sure. "I have paperwork to do," he finally says, and he spins around in a mass of robe and cloak and heads down the corridor, away from the Great Hall.

"I want more pudding," Draco says quietly.

"Come on," Harry says, taking his hand. "Well get some food from the kitchen. I have a good friend in there." He bursts into laughter. "Actually, he's probably your friend, too..."

Draco raises an eyebrow. "Whom are you talking about?"

"Remember your house elf I set free in second year?" Harry remembers it vividly. At the beginning, Dobby the house elf had attempted to save Harry's life on quite a few occasions—all failing miserably. But Harry had admired the elf's perseverance, and he hated Lucius (still does), so he set the elf free with the help of a very smelly sock. Now Dobby had been working in the Hogwarts kitchens and helping Harry throughout his years, and had gotten considerably better than the first year.

"Dobby?" Draco asks, raising the second eyebrow.

Harry nods.

And suddenly Draco slips out of Harry's grasp as he heads off at a dead sprint down the corridor to the portrait that hides the kitchen, in the process saying one very drug out word: "Doooobbyyyyyy!"

Harry laughs loudly as he takes off after his blond, and continues to laugh all the way there—also huffing and wheezing at the sudden bout of exercise. When they arrive they tickle the pear to bursting—literally, because the portrait swings up so fast and hard it knocks Draco onto his back on the floor.

"Oww..." he groans, holding his forehead where he got hit.

"Let that be a lesson to you," Harry says, kneeling down beside Draco and pulling his hands away from his face. "Never stand closest to the entrance of danger."

"I never thought wanting grape pudding would be considered dangerous. How bad is the bruise now?"

"You don't have a bruise," he says, brushing his fingers over Draco's forehead. "Just a little red bump." Harry pulls out his wand and says a one-worded spell, and the bump melts away. "It's a dangerous business, walking around Hogwarts. You step inside the gates, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no telling where you'll be swept off to."

"Thanks, 'Ry."

"...'Ry?"

"I almost said 'Hair', but that just reminds me that yours needs _work_, so I chose the last two letters instead."

"My hair does not need _work_."

"Oh yes it does! It's a wild jungle up there." Draco reaches up and pushes his fingers through it.

"Well, anyway, I like the nickname." He leans down and kisses Draco's forehead. "I'm going to call you Drake, then. How's that sound?"

Draco grimaces. "Revolting."

Harry kisses Draco's nose. "Sucks for you, then." He kisses his lips.

Draco's arms snake around Harry's neck and hold onto him tightly, but Harry's still able to pull away a few seconds later. Just because Mr. Gryffindor over here wants to call the shots doesn't mean he gets to.

"Are you sure I can't fix your hair?"

"It wouldn't work anyway."

"I can't even attempt it?"

Harry rubs his nose against Draco's. "Only if I get to call you Drake."

Draco purses his lips. "Deal."

Harry's so shocked he leans back completely. "You're serious?"

"Yup," Draco says, sitting up. "Now come on; I still want my pudding."

Draco jumps to a standing position and crawls through the portrait, and for a few moments Harry hesitates outside.

_Where's Kreacher?_ He thinks. _What if he's in there? I don't want to see him…_

"Kreacher?" he says out loud, but quietly.

A loud, ugly _pop_ goes off in front of him, and there stands Kreacher the house elf, looking as old and hateful as before.

"You called, master Harry?" he asks grumpily.

"I want you to make sure that we never run into each other while here at all costs, unless I call you again or Dumbledore tells you to go find me for him. Am I clear?"

"Very clear, master Harry," Kreacher says, bowing so low his nose presses to the ground.

The smile on the elf's face sickens Harry. "Go, then."

With another _pop_, Kreacher is gone.

Harry quickly jumps up and crawls into the portrait hole after Draco. Inside, the place is filled with house elves, bustling around with food and dishtowels and an assortment of other things.

"Master Harry!" squeaks a voice from somewhere in the air.

Harry looks up to see Dobby the house elf swinging down from a ladder to land on the counter closest to Harry.

"Tis you, sir!" Dobby says, smiling largely. "How is you being, sir? What adventures was held in your summer?"

Harry grins. "Hello, Dobby. Long time no see. I'm quite amazing, really. My summer held no adventures, though. It was very bland. But you'll never guess what did happen!"

"Oh, what, sir, what?" He's bouncing up and down with glee.

Harry looks around and sees Draco lost in a sea of elves. He reaches out, grabs his hand, and pulls him over to him. "You remember Draco Malfoy, don't you, Dobby?" Harry asks.

Dobby smiles brightly at the Gryffindor. "Oh, master Draco, sir! He is the only one ever being nice to Dobby, sir! Dobby loves him dearly!"

"Doooobbyyyyyy!" Draco squeals. He leaps forward and envelopes the tiny elf in a hug. "I've missed you, Dobby! The Manor is so boring without you! You're the only one that let me watch you clean and help you cook!"

Harry snorts. Not only was he hugging an elf, but Draco had...what? "Excuse me," Harry says, tapping Draco's shoulder.

Draco sets down Dobby, who's smiling brighter than the sun, and turns to Harry, ready for him to speak.

"Did you just say that you watch house elves clean and even cook your meals?"

Draco blushes and nods. "I've always done it, when the house elves of our Manor allow."

"Well, _I_ never wanted to watch anybody clean anything, nor can I cook to save my life..."

"Good! I can do all of it. I like it."

Harry notices Dobby giving them a quizzical look.

"Is it being true, master Harry?" Dobby asks, blinking his golf ball sized eyes at him. "You and master Draco is being _friends_, now?"

"More than that," Draco says, smiling warmly at the elf. "We're in love."

As if it's possible, the elf's eyes grow even larger. "The masters is liking _boys_, sirs?"

"Since forever," Harry says, taking Draco's hand.

"Since...a long time," Draco says in return, grabbing Harry's other hand.

"Oh, masters!" Dobby says, bursting in large, round, happy tears. "So long Dobby and his friends is being waiting, sirs! So long we is wanting you being friends, and now _this_! This is being so much better, sirs! Now both of you is being _inseparable_!"

Harry and Draco share a quizzical look. "What do you mean _waiting_, Dobby?" Harry asks the elf.

"Waiting, sirs! _Waiting_!" he chirps. "All of Dobby and his fellow house elves was being waiting for Dobby's masters to become friends so the madness is being stopping!"

"The madness is being stopping?" Draco echoes.

"Yes, master Draco! The madness of you and master Harry's anger and hatred was being reaching all the way to the house elves! We sometimes is being cleaning up the messes you make when you is being fighting, not Mr. Filch! We sometimes is being watching in the corners, wishing we is being able to interfere and stop you. But we was not being able to, and now we is not ever having to again!" Dobby starts to spin in circles. "Winky! Toni! Yoshi! Fify! Everyone come, come, come! Rilo! Lila and Lilac! Anker! Everyone gather, gather, gather!"

And, one by one, seven by seven, the entire house elf population apparates into the kitchen, their golf ball eyes glistening and twinkling and shining like glazed water and shimmering stars.

"What is it, Dobby?" a little female elf Harry recognizes as Winky. She used to be Barty Crouch's, but he dropped her before Harry's fourth year even began. Thank goodness, too. Anyone who steals a wizards wand deserves to be punished.

"Wait, Winky, wait for the others!" Dobby says.

And so they do, and the kitchen continues to fill up with the little house elves, their big eyes blinking at Dobby and at them, and their Yoda-like ears twitching.

"There are only two free elves in this castle," Harry says, "Dobby and Winky. Who knew Dobby would become such a leader here..."

"It doesn't surprise me," Draco says. "He was always trying to lead the elves at the Manor, too."

"I remember the first time I met him. He dropped cake on the company of my aunt and uncles back in second year. It was hilarious, but I got locked in my room—complete with barred windows."

Draco snorts. "They what?" he says. And then he growls, "Ooh, I hate them already. Who are they, exactly?"

"The Dursley's? They're the people I've had to live with during all of my summers—at least when I'm not at the Burrow with George and Gin."

Draco coughs. "_Every_ summer? With _bars_?"

"Well, the bars were only the second summer...but yes, every summer."

Draco opens his mouth to most likely slander his aunt, uncle, and cousin beyond recognition, but Dobby speaks first: "Shh, everyone! Shh, friends is being quiet now!"

And so they are.

"Dobby is having news!" he squeaks. "Masters Harry and Draco is being _friends_ now!"

The kitchen erupts into little elf cheers.

"Wait, there is being more!" Dobby says, holding his arms above his head to silence the crowd. "They is being more than just friends, the masters! They is being in _love_!"

Harry has to cover his ears to save his ears from the explosion of tiny voices that follow Dobby's "speech". And the next thing he knows is that he's being flooded over by all of the little bodies with their cheers and questions and laughter.

He looks over at Draco with a bright smile to see that the other boy is speaking to him, but the elves are so loud he can't hear a thing. He holds up a finger for Draco to wait, and then starts to wave his arms above his head to shut the little buggers up.

It works. It takes a few minutes, but it does in fact work—for the most part.

"What were you saying?" Harry asks Draco.

"I said," Draco says over the last few squeaks, "'And to think I only came in here to get more pudding.'"

Harry laughs. "It's better than facing all of the people, though, don't you think?"

Draco can only nod before a little female elf is yanking on the sleeve of his robes to get his attention.

"Master Draco, master Draco!" she squeaks. "I is named Neon, sir, and I has a question!"

And then, to Harry's and the rest of the elves surprise, Draco bends down and picks Neon up to hold her against his hip. He just holds her like he's been holding house elves his entire life; like he's held children there so many times before. "It's nice to meet you, Neon," he says. "What's your question?"

Neon stares at him in silence until lighting up like a firework. "I and lots of us others is wanting to know _when_, sir! And _how_!"

Draco frowns, and then smiles. "Well, the story is complicated if I explain all of it, so I'll just tell you the basic gist. Gather around, everybody!

"They _are_ gathered, Drake," Harry says, grinning.

"Oh. Right. Anyway, the story!" Draco suddenly plops onto the ground with his legs crossed, Neon now on his lap, to tell his story.

_Like a father_, Harry thinks. _He's going to make a bloody brilliant husband._

"Here's a little secret," Draco continues. "'Ry—meaning Harry; yes, we have little nicknames for each other—and I have had mostly secret crushes on each other's since year one."

Squeals erupt from the crowd, and then quickly fade away so Draco can continue.

"We didn't find out until the end of fifth year, when we had our first kiss."

More squeals.

"But...I was stupid." Draco's voice quiets and he holds Neon closer. "I was scared of...well, a lot of things, really, and I left"—his voice breaks. "I left 'Ry where the kiss was, and we didn't see each other or talk with each other until only a few days before summer was over. It didn't go...well. Anyway, fast forward to the train ride in. We saw each other and we forgave each other and we kissed a lot—" (more squeals) "—and...oh boy, I sat with him in the Great Hall. It was _hilarious_." He smiles dreamily up at the ceiling, where some of the elves are actually hanging from, but he just looks passed them. "And that's...pretty much it, in a very small nutshell."

The elves erupt in more questions, but eventually quiet down as a little male only half the size of Dobby walks up in front of Draco.

_A baby?_ Harry thinks.

"Ex_queeze_ me, sir!" says the little elf. His voice is like a baby's, too. "Me named Jericho and have question, too!"

Harry sees Draco melt at the little elf. He looks up at Harry, who's still standing up and still near him, with a face that screams _HE'S SO CUTE!_ And Harry has to agree.

"It's nice to meet you, Jericho" Draco says to the elf, pulling him onto the other side of his lap (there's enough room for two elves, let alone one and a half). "What's your question?"

Jericho's ear droop a little, and then he leans up and whispers into Draco's ear so that nobody else can hear. But Harry sees Draco's face, and his eyes go wide.

When Jericho leans away, Draco says, "I want you to stay right here in my lap, and both me and 'Ry will talk to you when all the others have gone back to work. Okay?"

The elf nods happily and snuggles in closer to Draco, who tightens his arm around him.

"Are there any more questions?" Draco asks the crowd. "Maybe for 'Ry?"

For the first time all day, Draco is answered with absolute silence.

Harry sighs. "That awkward moment when you're a heartless Slytherin bastard..."

"That is called pessimism," Draco says. "I would have thought your still being alive is optimism."

"No," Harry says, "the pessimism makes me think 'eh, I'm gonna die anyway,' so I rush into things like a real hero."

"Anyway," Draco says, nodding. He turns back to the elves. "You can all go back to work, now. 'Ry and I are staying here, so you can just come up to us if you want to talk."

The room erupts into _okay_'s and _goodbye_'s and other forms of acknowledgments, and then, slowly, the kitchen begins to empty until only those elves that work in the kitchens remain, bustling about with food preparations for tomorrow's breakfast or anything for a midnight snacker.

Harry sits down behind Draco so his legs are around him and his arms are resting on his sides and thighs. Jericho is still on Draco's lap, looking sad and hopeful at both of them.

"So what's the problem?" Harry asks around Draco's shoulder.

"The problem?" Draco says, turning so that his lips brush against Harry's cheek. "There is no problem. Not a large one, at least. We just have a little reassuring to do."

"Mmm, I see. And what, exactly, are we reassuring?"

Draco's arms tighten around the elf in his lap unconsciously. "Little Jericho here."

Harry nods. "Alright, lay it out for me."

Looking down at Jericho with a caring face, Draco says, "Our friend here happens to be just like us, but he's scared to tell anybody."

_**OoOoOoO**_

Harry's eyes widen just as Draco's had, seriously wide but quickly disguising it with a smile.

…  
**_FLASHBACK_**  
…

_Jericho's ears droop a little, and then he leans up beside Draco's ear so that nobody else will hear what he has to say._

"_I like boys too, but I scared."_

_Draco's eyes widen, but when Jericho pulls away he composes his face with a warm smile._

"_I want you to stay right here in my lap," he says, "and both me and Harry will talk to you when all the others have gone back to work. Okay?"_

….  
**_END FLASHBACK  
_**….

"_Well_ then," Harry says, smiling warmly at the little elf buried in Draco's arms. "If there's anyone to go to for that, it's us."

"Or Dumbledore," Draco adds, "but we're good too."

Jericho gives a small smile but says nothing.

Draco knows why.

"Oh, don't be scared of _him_," he says, jabbing his thumb in Harry's direction. "Just because he's a Slytherin doesn't mean he's too terrible. Come on and say halloo to him; he's really quite nice."

Harry chuckles against Draco's back before sticking his head back on his shoulder.

Slowly, Jericho pulls himself away from Draco's chest a little, watching Harry's every move—which means he's watching utter stillness.

"Halloo, Harry Potter," Jericho says timidly.

"Halloo to you too, Jericho," Harry says. "Drake's right about me; don't worry. I really am quite nice." Then in a whisper only Draco can hear: "When I want to be."

"Which is not often," Draco adds in an equal whisper.

"Let me say one thing," Harry says to Jericho. "Do not be ashamed for who you are. I was never ashamed, but I always kept it secret because it would be too much work."

"Yeah, _I_ was the ashamed one, if any of us," Draco says. "I didn't tell anybody because I tried not to think about it, and honestly, it would have been suicide to tell anybody that I like the sodding Boy Who Lived."

"It okay for me then?" Jericho asks.

Both boys nod.

"How old are you, Jericho?" Harry asks.

"Two," Jericho squeaks.

Harry twitches behind him. "He's really got his life planned out, doesn't he?" he whispers.

"House elves grow differently than we do," Draco says to him. "At two we could barely talk, let alone form coherent thoughts about our sexual orientation. They're different than us."

"Alright, alright, whatever. Jericho, I don't think you should just go off and tell everybody, but you shouldn't hide it, either. If later in your life—hell, even now—a girl asks you to do...whatever you house elves do, just tell her outright that you're sorry but you can't because you're gay. Or if anybody starts to ask you what you've...done...with a girl, just say you haven't done anything because you like boys."

"But what about mummy?" she asks. "Mummy know and don't like it. Don't like you, either."

Harry frowns. "Well that's comforting."

Draco reaches back and pokes him. "Shut up, heatless Slytherin bastard, and let me handle this."

"If you insist!" Harry says in a voice Draco knows means he really doesn't care at all.

"Thank you," Draco replies sarcastically. "Anyway!" He turns his attention back to Jericho. "Why do you think your mother doesn't like it?"

Jericho bites the nail on his thumb and shrugs.

"Come now, you must have an idea, even a teensie one."

"Well… I only child, and I think she just sad that she won't have grandkids…"

"Ohh…" Draco and Harry say together. They know all about that. Draco continues: "Jericho, I know exactly how you feel. I'm an only child, and here I am now, with—miraculously—both of my parents on my side. But I used to be scared of them. I wondered what they would do to me, knowing grandchildren were not a possibility… But my father liked boys too, at one point, and he still fell in love with my mother and had me, didn't he? Who knows what will happen by the time I'm ready to have or adopt any kids. I could be straight as an arrow by then, but—"

"We hope that's not the case," Harry finishes, tightening his body around Draco's. "Or at least I do."

"Shut up, 'Ry, I'm busy." Draco turns his head around to glare at the other boy.

Harry kisses him lightly. Draco starts to tilt back to kiss him deeper, but instead Harry leans away and buries his face in the back of Draco's neck and breathes in deeply.

Draco rolls his eyes and turns back to the little elf. "Do you think we could speak to your mother?" he asks.

And then, before Jericho can do anything at all, there's a sharp _CRACK_ and a regular sized, female, sketchy looking elf is standing in front of Draco's crisscrossed legs.

Harry goes rigid behind Draco. "_Ashdod_?" he exclaims.

The elf—Ashdod—gives Harry a wilted look. "Young master Potter," she says with an unhappy expression.

Draco whips his torso around to face Harry. "You _know_ her?"

Harry nods, staring at her with an expression both surprised and sad. "I'll explain later." He pushes himself apart from Draco and scoots around to sit beside him. "It's been so long," Harry says to Ashdod. "I'm not sure how I even remembered your name! How did you end up here, in the castle?"

"I belong to master Dumbledore," she says icily. "I go where he tells me to go."

Draco is impressed. Never before has he heard an elf use real, complete, grammatical sentences.

"Oh, of course," Harry says, rolling his eyes at himself. "I forgot you belonged to him and was thinking you were with Lupin or Snape."

Ashdod frowns. "Definitely not. I only truly serve master Dumbledore!"

"You know he's gay as well, right?" Harry asks cautiously.

Ashdod frowns slightly. "That is not the reason I do not approve. My son is correct; I wish to become a grandmother."

"And he can't adopt?"

"Surely you, Harry Potter, with the only son of the highly esteemed Malfoy family, can understand how important _blood ties_ are."

"But can't you just wait and see what happens? What if your son ends up falling in love with a girl? It won't matter then. Can't you just love him now and be happy with what you have?"

Ashdod frowns sadly. "You have given me something to think about, young master Potter. But I will not give an answer now. Goodbye, and to you too, young master Malfoy."

Draco gives her a small nod.

Ashdod turns to Jericho. "Come along, darling. Gezer is looking for you." She disappears with a _crack_.

Jericho looks happily at Harry. "Thank you, master Harry." He looks up at Draco. "You too, master Draco. I hope I see you soon."

Before Draco or Harry can say goodbye, Jericho disappears as well.

"You know," Draco says, turning to Harry. "Ashdod, Gezer, and Jericho were all cities in Judah. Either way, though, how do you know her, exactly? Ashdod, I mean."

"Well, you heard she's Dumbledore's elf," Harry says, "so shouldn't that make it obvious?"

"I…guess."

Harry rolls his eyes heavenward with a smile. "Back in my second year, there was this elf that always came and told me when Dumbledore wanted me, and she was always in his office when we talked. She was pregnant at the time—and we just met that baby! Wow—and always grumpy, so we got off on the wrong foot pretty quickly. I haven't seen her since that second year, so who knows what all went down. Anyway, in my third year, I learned from Professor Lupin—you know, the bloke I would always argue with and our arguments would end in either laughter or a talk in the hall?—that she had been alive back when they all went to school. They as in Lupin, Sirius, Snape, and both of our parents. That's why she calls me _young_ master Potter, and you _young_ master Malfoy. She knew our parents, and obviously didn't like them much. That's why she doesn't like us; we're the spitting image of our dads."

Draco frowns. "I've always hated how alike we look. I always had—and still sometimes have—ghosts going up to me and mentioning something fathers done, or portraits hiding or looking for me to either ask how he's been or mistake me for him. 'Oh, Lucius, it's been so long! You haven't changed a bit…did you die, too?' 'Hello, Malfoy! Has your arm stopped hurting?' 'Hello, Lucius…you look the same. You must have died. Would you like to join me for…dinner tonight?' Merlin, it's confusing."

Harry chuckles. "The only reason I don't like looking like my dad is because Snape always makes fun of me for it and he was a Gryffindor."

"Gryffindor's aren't _that_ bad" Draco says, frowning.

"No, _you're_ not that bad. I've never gotten along with them, being a Slytherin and all… and Fred's okay, but I don't like Parkinson or Goyle—and Weasley is simply _unbearable_."

"Well, I don't like any of your friends either. But George is…okay. The rest stink though. And I'm 'not that bad'? I'm way better than that! _You're_ the Slytherin; _you're_ the feral one! You said so yourself!"

Harry grins. "Feral? I'll show _you_ feral!"

Draco is up and running just in time to escape Harry's arms from circling him, and the chase is on.

But the chase is short lived, because right as Draco is about to the portrait hole out of the kitchen, it swings open to reveal Ron and Granger.

Draco screeches to a halt and Harry behind him, and for a few short seconds the four people only stare at each other. But then Ron steps back and yells down the corridor: "Guys! We found them! Over here, at the kitchen! Hurry up!"

Draco listens to _six_ sets of footprints running towards the kitchen, and the next thing he knows his three and Harry's five friends are all piled into the kitchen, the portrait closing behind them. Ron, Pansy, and Vince on his side, and Longbottom, Granger, Goyle, the female Weasley, and Lovegood for Harry.

"Uh…hi, guys," Draco says awkwardly, backing away from them and ultimately into Harry, who wraps his arms around Draco's waist.

"Hey, mates," Harry says happily. "Finally found us, did you? Bet you all have a lot of…er…questions!"

"Oh, yuh _think_?" the Weaslette growls.

"Gin, shut up," Longbottom says. "There's nothing wrong with it."

"The hell there's nothing wrong with it!" Pansy screeches. "Honestly, Draco, friends with a _Slytherin_!"

"Merlin, Pansy, are you blind?" Ron growls. "They're more than just friends! Look at the way Potter's holding him!"

"Of course I'm holding him this way," Harry says, tightening his arms. "I've wanted Draco since year one, and Harry always gets what Harry wants.

As everyone in the room except Longbottom and Lovegood explode with "_Since year one_?" and whatnot, Draco turns his head around and looks Harry in the eyes. "George told you about that?" he asks quietly.

"George told me everything," Harry whispers. "He always tells me everything."

"He told you I was sorry for saying it then, right?"

"I'm sorry, did I not say that he told me _everything_? I was sure I did…"

"Alright, alright, I was just being paranoid."

"And unfair."

"And unfair," Draco repeats. And since the eight others are still yelling at each other he spins around completely in Harry's arms and puts his own arms around the dark haired boys neck. "You're mine, okay?"

"Excuse me?" Harry says, pulling Draco closer to him.

"I said that _you're mine_."

"On the contrary; _I'm_ the one circling _your_ waist."

"I don't even care. I'm yours, too. We are each other's. No sharing and no flirting with others. Okay?"

Harry smiles warmly and stands until their eyes are level. "I accept."

The instant their lips touch, screams fill the room, but Harry ignores them and Draco lifts a hand to flip everybody off.

"Oh my gods, I'm going to puke," a female says. The Weaslette's voice.

"I need a bucket!" A male voice. Ron's voice.

Draco does his best to ignore everything going on around him and only focus on Harry's lips. Warm, soft and smooth. Harry's teeth bite lightly on Draco's bottom lip and Draco moans almost inaudibly.

"Fuck you, Malfoy!" A girl's voice. Pansy's voice.

Draco spins around faster than he ever has in his life, yanking his lips and arms away from Harry.

The kitchen is dead silent, now (even the elves have stopped to watch). Pansy has silent tears streaming down her face, and she's looking at Draco with a combination of hurt and the look you get when somebody's told you they just committed murder. But Pansy… Pansy is the sweetest, nicest girl Draco knows. He's never heard her cuss, and she's never called him Malfoy—not even when she's trying to get him to listen to her or do his homework.

"Fuck you!" she says again. "Why didn't you tell us? You know I've been homophobic since the beginning! Why do you have to be one of _them_?"

"Maybe_ this _is why I didn't' tell you!" Draco says, throwing as much hatred into his words as he can—which is virtually nothing, because as much as he's angry that his friends won't accept him, the sadness he feels is greater still. "Because I knew that you would hate it!" He turns to Harry. "Reason I was scared number three-hundred and eighty-seven." Before he can laugh he turns back to Pansy. "Please, Pansy. You _know_ me, there's no reason to be scared of me."

"Apparently I_ didn't_ know you," Pansy says, swiping her eyes with her thumbs. "Don't come near me ever again, faggot." And with that, she turns around and bursts out of the portrait hole, running away from the kitchen with now audible tears.

Draco starts to shake, and then Ron speaks: "Merlin, Draco, look what you've done now!"

"Look what _I've_ done?" Draco growls, his anger starting to grow. "She's the one that can't accept who _I_ am! I was this way before I even _met_ you, and I'm not just going to change for _either_ of you!"

Ron glares. "Look, just forget it. I'm okay with gays, but not when you specifically are with Potter—plus I'd rather hang about with Pansy than with you and your 'new friends' any day." He stops to the portrait hole. "You comin', Vince?"

Draco had forgotten all about Vince. He turns to see his big friend looking away from…Goyle? Anyway, he turns to Ron. "I can't," Vince says quietly. "Draco is my friend, and I'll support him no matter what."

Draco's face lights up and his heart warms. He had never been as close to Vince as he could be, but here he was, giving up his friends just for him.

Ron glares at him. "Fine. Traitor."

"Ron, wait!"

Draco turns to see the Weaslette rushing over to her brother.

"As much as I hate you," she says, "my views are the same as yours. I just hate Malfoy instead of Harry."

"Fine," Ron says, "but you'll have to put up with Pansy or you're out."

"Totally worth it."

Before the two of them leave the kitchen after Pansy, both of them throw a glance in Granger's direction—and Draco honestly can't tell, as she's looking back, if she's looking at Ron or his sister.

_**OoOoOoO**_

Both Weasley's swing the portrait shut with a bang, and Draco starts to shake so much its incomprehensible.

Harry quickly closes the distance between them stopping in front of him, and wrapping his arms around him.

"It's okay," he says into the taller boys' ear. "Don't cry; I'm here. A lot of us are here, and I know they'll help, even if only for my sake."

"Vince," Draco whispers.

Harry leans back to see his face. "What?"

Draco yanks away so that he's facing Crabbe, but he's still holding tightly to Harry's hand. "Vince," he says again. "Why did you stay?"

Crabbe turns from looking at…Greg? Odd. Anyway, he turns to Draco. "Exactly why I said," he says. "You're my friend and I'll support you no matter what."

"But _why_?"

He shrugs. "I'm not gay, but that doesn't mean I'm afraid of it. It'd be like saying I'm afraid of a plastic cup because I'm not one. Honestly, Pansy is being stupid. I can understand the Weasley's, but…well, I couldn't really care less about House wars. I'm a friend with anybody who braves talking to me." He shrugs again.

Draco launches across the room and envelopes—well, envelopes himself into—Crabbe in a hug. Harry goes stiff, but he knows that Draco is only thanking him, so he stays where he is.

"Merlin," Draco says, "all these years I've been with Ron and here_ you_ were! Honestly, how could you have never brought it up?"

Crabbe wraps his arms awkwardly around Draco and pats his back. "Well, you've kept to yourself, for the most part… I mean, you never talk unless spoken to or if you're angry—which isn't often, by the way. I've never known what to say around you, as much time as we've been around each other. How was I supposed to know what to say?"

Draco sighs and steps away from him, unknowingly causing Harry to unstiffen. Draco's _his_ boyfriend, after all.

"Am I destined to never be truly known to anybody?" Draco asks quietly. "Honestly, it's insane." He pushes his fingers through his hair, causing it to stick up incredibly. He looks over at Harry, who looks back with a soft smile. He turns to Neville, who Harry sees his masking whatever he's thinking perfectly; his face is completely blank. Draco continues to Greg, who's not even looking back—he's looking at Crabbe. Weird stuff… He turns to Hermione, who's chewing on her left pinky, and then he turns to Luna, who's smiling dreamily at all of the still silent house elves.

"Let's hear from you mates, then," Draco says. "Why didn't you leave with Pansy and the Weasley's?"

"I stayed because I knew," Luna says, looking down with the same dreamy expression at Draco.

Everybody blinks at her.

"You knew?" Harry asks. "But…but how?"

"I have eyes, and I see."

Hermione snorts (she's never liked Luna). "Well, that clears that up, then."

Draco rolls his eyes at Hermione, and Neville says, "A little more specific, maybe, Luna?"

"It wasn't that hard to see, really," she says. "Behind all eyes of love there is an extreme burn of anger or hatred, and sometimes that burn clouds over the eyes of love—but only when the love is there."

"Uh…" Harry says. "You call that specific?"

She shrugs. "Call it what you may, but that is what I see. Also, would you two just say hello already?"

Harry starts to ask who she means, but then sees that Luna is looking between Greg and Crabbe.

Both boys are blushing up at the ceiling.

"You should, Greg," Hermione says. "You really should."

"Wait, what?" Harry and Neville say in unison, while Draco says, "Pardon?"

Greg and Crabbe sigh, and then Greg says, "Our families have been friends since before Vince and I were born. And…well, we've never gotten along much, but even after we came to Hogwarts and got Sorted differently our families still hung out together. We were only children, so we still did everything together, even though we had all sorts of fights. Physical and magical and emotional ones. We called each other by our last names—all up till the summer of last year…" He trails off and looks over at Crabbe again.

Crabbe looks back, and then takes over the talking: "When you all—as in Potter, Granger, Longbottom, Lovegood, and the littlest Weasley—went on your little Ministry expedition, I was actually freaking out. Both our parents are Death Eater's, and we know that, but it didn't help my nerves. Anyway, this summer our mums and us moved in with each other since our dads are in Azkaban. We were together twenty-four-seven, and then first day I yelled at him for putting himself in danger like that and helping put both our dads in prison. He told me to fuck off, at first"—he and Greg snicker lightly, sharing a personal memory—"but eventually, being the only human males in the house…well, we became friends."

"But _how_?" Draco asks.

Crabbe shrugs. "We just did."

"It just happened," Greg adds.

"Well then," Neville says, shoving his hands in his pockets. "You learn something new every day."

"George never told me _that_," Harry whispers to himself, knowing Greg doesn't know about the Hidden Tongues.

"And I thought my dating Harry would surprise people," Draco says, placing his hands on his hips in such a way that honestly makes him look like a short haired girl from where Harry can see him from the back. "Why didn't you—I mean, Vince, I don't really care about you Goyle, no offence."

"None taken," Greg grunts.

"Anyway, Vince, why didn't you ever bring it up? I mean like the fact that you were being tortured every summer…like that part."

Vince shrugs. "I didn't really want to talk about it. Can you imagine Ron's comments?—because they wouldn't have stopped this year, when we actually became friends. I'm not saying I got Professor Trelawney to foresee this future here, but I am the type of person that thinks ten years ahead, and with Greg and I seeing as much of each other as we did and oo…well, I factored it in."

The room (apart from Luna) blinks at him.

"And you're a _Gryffindor_?" Harry asks. "You're supposed to be irrational!"

"_I've_ never been irrational," Draco says. "Not saying I think ahead much, but I don't just jump into things."

"As has been _learned_," Neville mutters.

Draco swivels his head around and glares at Neville, and then he turns to Harry and says, "Whom all did you tell, exactly?"

"Uh," Harry says, "Neville—obviously—and Fred was there when I explained it to him, and…uh…George has known forever." Harry doesn't want to explain Hidden Tongues to him just yet—_especially_ in front of the others.

Draco nods and says, "That explains Neville, then. Granger, what about you?"

"The same reason as Crabbe," she says. "Harry is my friend and I'll support him no matter what. Honestly, I almost died to keep him safe; I'm not going to ditch him for something as trivial as his sexual orientation. It's all the same to me; married or single, night or morning person, student or professor. As long as it doesn't have to do with muggles, I'm good."

Draco snorts. "But aren't you muggle_born_?"

Hermione stiffens. "I've never gotten along with any of my family. I didn't try to; I just _didn't_. It confused me until I came here and learned where I truly belong."

"Right," Draco says absentmindedly.

"What happens now?" Greg asks quietly.

"Well, I know what happens to _me_," Luna says dreamily. "Nothing!" She twirls in slow, mesmerizing circles, and suddenly she's disappearing out of the portrait hole.

"Um…" Crabbe says. "Anybody else up for an answer?"

"I vote we're all friends now," Neville says.

Harry blinks at him, and Neville stares back with a sad smile.

"You're sure?" Harry asks quietly. "I don't want to hurt anybody even more…" Harry wants Neville to say yes so badly he almost hadn't asked. He needed Draco, but he needed Neville, too, and the fact that, even after all these years with Neville as his friend, he would choose Draco without almost any thought at all…it pains him. He doesn't like it, but he doesn't know how to change it; doesn't even want to.

Neville nods.

"Promise?" Harry asks again.

"Harry, we'll talk about it later, okay? But it's all _okay_ with me. Please, we sleep in the same room; you can drill me then."

Harry nods and turns to Draco, who's watching him with sad confusion. "Later," he mouth, and once Draco gives a small nods Harry continues to turn to Crabbe.

"So I've got to quite talking about you all behind your backs?" Crabbe asks with a faint grin.

Harry chuckles. "Let's just take it one step at a time, okay?" He crossed the room to the bigger boy and holds out his hand. "Hi, I'm Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. It's my biggest goal to destroy Voldemort and Peter Pettigrew."

With only a second's hesitation, Crabbe reaches out and shakes Harry's outstretched hand. "Nice to meet you, Harry. I'm Vincent, Crabbe, and my dad's in Azkaban for being one of You-Know-Who's Death Eater's…this relationship should be fun."

The seven wizards in the room all laugh both sincerely and awkwardly, and all of the house elves above and around let out happy, shaky breaths.

Neville moves to Vince and says, "Neville Longbottom, at your service. I like cats."

"Nice to meet you, Neville," Vince says. "I don't."

They smirk at each other before Neville turns to Draco. "I'm not going to shake your hand," he says.

"Good," Draco says. "I'm Draco Malfoy, and my father's in prison the same as Vince's. I like cats, too. I've always wanted one but my mother never let me."

"I like cats too!" Hermione says, joining the circle. She looks at Draco and Vince and says, "I'm Hermione Granger, and I have a cat named Crookshanks here with me, and one named Rook back home."

"Rook?" Draco asks. "Like the chess piece?"

Hermione nods.

"Sorry to bring him up, then, but Ron is a _wicked_ chess player. He's played and beat every single person in our House, the entirety of the fifth through seventh years, and anyone younger who's challenged him. He's played Professor McGonagall twice and she only beat him the second time. It's blood _brilliant_."

"And before there's an awkward silence," Greg says, joining the circle at last, "I'm Gregory Goyle and I'm more of an owl or dog person… I don't really like cats."

"Ditto," Harry says. "Owls and dragons, for me."

"Oh!" Vince says. "You've _got_ to meet Hagrid. As much of a klutz he is, he's really nice. Anyway, though, he—"

"Had a baby Norwegian Ridgeback named Norbert that ended up being Norberta," Harry finishes.

Vince and Draco blink at him.

"What?" Harry says. "I was friends with Hagrid before I even came here. He was the one who first came and got me. He is a klutz—more than that—and I'd rather take a nap than actually spend some time with him…but he's an okay bloke, and we've spent a lot of our summers together, what with him being part of the Order and all."

"Merlin," Draco says. "I never realized how many Gryffindor's you're forced to be around. Like how many Slytherin's I get to know… I'd say we should trade, but who knows what life would be like then, other than You-Know-Who having a direct line to go and kill you."

"And vice versa," Neville says.

They all nod awkwardly, and for a few moments nobody speaks.

"Well then," Greg says. "So much for that awkward silence I was trying to prevent. I'm gonna…uh…go off to bed. Yeah."

"I'm coming with you," Hermione says.

"Count me in," Neville says. "I'll see you in the dorm, okay, Harry?"

Harry nods. "And we _will_ be talking."

Neville nods back and then he and the two others exit through the portrait hole.

"I'll see you too, Draco," Vince says. "I'll prepare Ron for your entrance."

Draco frowns. "Yeah, okay. Have fun with that one."

Vince rolls his eyes. "I'm sure I will." And then he leaves too, leaving Harry and Draco in the kitchen again with only the house elves.

One of them—Winky—comes up beside them.

"Will master Draco be okay?" she asks quietly.

Draco frowns. "Yeah, I'll be fine. Being forced to sleep in the same room as Ron isn't my idea of fun, but I'll get over it."

Winky smiles, nods, and disappears with a sharp _crack_.

Harry whirls over to Draco and throws his arms around his neck, and Draco in turn wraps his arms around Harry's waist. "You will be alright, won't you?" he asks. "You can come to my dorm, if you need to."

Draco is shaking his head before Harry finishes talking. "No, I've got to make sure Ron doesn't eat Vince alive. But yes, I'll be fine. I'll write letters to my mother to pass the time or something."

"Are you sure?"

Draco nods.

"Promise?"

"Merlin, Harry! Yes, I'll be fine!"

Harry sighs and leans his head against Draco's chest. "I just don't… I want this to work, but if everybody is going to be giving us shit about it… Ugh, I just don't want to get you hurt!"

Draco pulls his hand up and strokes Harry's hair. "It'll be fine," he says. "Sure, the world will be against us at first, but they'll get over it in the end. Blaise Zabini and Millicent Bullstrode will be on you like dogs—with or against you, I don't know—and I'll be stuck with Lavender Brown and Parvatil Patil, not to mention Pansy and Ron."

"Don't forget Gin."

"Ugh, I really don't like her… The permanent want for you plastered into her eyes makes me sick."

"Me too, but I learned to ignore it after about a year. And hopefully it'll stop now that she's knows I'm with you."

"Or it will get worse…"

"Merlin, I bloody well hope not."

"Yes, me too."

Harry leans his head away from Draco, and Draco slides a hand up to Harry's chin and tilts it up to kiss him. Harry knots his fingers into Draco's thin, short, lighter than platinum blond hair and plunges his tongue into his mouth before the other boy can do it first. Draco lets go of Harry's chin and slides his hands inside of Harry's robes to his waist, gripping tightly to his shirt there and yanking on it to untuck it from his trousers.

Harry pulls his mouth way from Draco's instantly. "Wait," he whispers. "The house elves."

"Then we'll find another place," Draco breathes. It's almost a question.

"Yes," Harry says. "Yes, we will."

The two boys are out of the kitchen and running down the empty corridors faster than a Blast-Ended Skrewt after it blasts, Harry towing Draco towards the Room of Requirement and Draco asking no questions. Good thing, too, because Harry knows exactly what he's doing.

When they get there a few minutes later, Draco says, "Oh, the Room of Requirement. I've been in here before."

"Well, you'll be in here again," Harry says, and then he starts to walk back and forth in front of the wall thinking, _I need a place for Draco and me_.

And there, on the third pass, forms a door.

Both boys burst into the room, and their eyes widen. It's completely bare, with dark stone walls and the same floor, apart from an ugly red couch in the middle of the room.

"Some sick fantasy you're not telling me about, Potter?" Draco giggles, skipping over to the couch.

"Uh," Harry says, blushing. "Next time you get to tell the Room what we need."

"What did you think to it, anyway?"

"Just that I needed a place for us…"

"Well, you've got one. Get over here."

"Only if you promise to make the room next time."

"That was my plan."

So Harry launches himself across the room and into Draco's outstretched arms, their lips coming firmly together. They shed each other's robes and shoes, and Draco starts to push Harry down onto the couch.

"I don't think so," Harry says, spinning around and pushing Draco down. "This is my sick fantasy, remember?"

Draco sticks his bottom lip out in a pout.

"Don't worry," Harry says, crawling down over him. "You get me next time."

"Thank Merlin."

Before any more words can be spoken, Harry leans down and kisses Draco on his mouth. He untucks the Gryffindor's shirt and then proceeds to undo all of the buttons. His fingers trace over Draco's bare chest, and Draco moans every time Harry's fingers brush across his hardening nipples.

"Harry?" Draco says—okay, more groans, but whatever.

"Mmm?" Harry says dreamily, bending down to kiss a line down Draco's stomach.

"We're not going to… I mean, not on a couch, right?"

He chuckles first, but then looks up to see Draco looking down at him with silver orbs shimmering like the sun on the Black Lake and his breath hitches in his throat.

"No," he's finally able to say. "No, not on a couch. Besides, I don't think you'd let me top you the first time, no matter how feral I can be."

Draco laughs and his stomach shudders underneath Harry's face. "True," the blond says.

"Yeah, so make sure your sick fantasy has a bed, okay?"

"My sick fantasy does _not_ have a bed, so I'll just be a little more specific when I tell the Room what we need. I hope you know that I'm used to the finer things in life, so it's going to be really warm and really big."

"Good, and yeah, your stomach has a really faint taste of watermelons."

"Watermelons do _not_ signify that I like the finer things. They just happen to smell really good so I buy my body wash in girl stores. The place I usually buy it has this really good stuff that never expires, and they think I'm getting them all for a secret present I'll be giving to my mother in about two more years. She should have about enough to fill our vault at Gringotts two and a half times by now… Ah yes, if only I hadn't been using them for myself, then that would be true."

Harry laughs. "I swear to Merlin, you are the most adorable creature on the planet. But, I must ask the question…if watermelons smell really good, does that mean that you sniff yourself at random intervals of the day?"

"Uh…"

"My gods, you are the cutest thing in the entire world! No wonder you're a Gryffindor; Slytherin's are never adorable or cute."

"Thanks, but I think Jericho's got me beat."

"I disagree, but speaking of house elves, you were really good with them."

"Pardon?"

"You just…the way you _treated_ them." Harry lays his head down on Draco's stomach. "You just treated them like little children, which is usually exactly how they wanted to be treated, and it just made me think about you being a…well…a father."

Harry's suddenly pushed up as Draco sits up, and Draco's lips settle over Harry's with a loving urgency.

"Harry," Draco says, pulling away from Harry's lips. "Do you have any idea how much I love you?"

"A lot?" Harry says, blushing.

"It depends. What's your definition of 'a lot'?"

"Uh…a _lot_?"

Draco rolls his eyes. "Let's just say that if we had a picture of the universe next to a picture of a heart twice as big, it would be actual size."

"Then _ha_," Harry says, pushing Draco back down onto the couch.

"Ha?" Draco asks, cocking his head to the right.

"Because my love for you is three times the universe!"

"No, no, no. I don't think so. My love is—"

"Never mind," Harry says, placing a finger over Draco's lips to quiet him. "We eventually need to go back to our common rooms, and I for one do not want to waste the time that we have arguing."

"Carry on with your sick little fantasy then, Potter," Draco says around Harry's finger with a grin. "I await being ravished."

"If you insist," Harry says with an evil grin. He pushes Draco's arms above his head, takes out his wand, and points it at Draco's chest. "Incarcerous," he says, and ropes of white satin leap out and bind Draco's wrists and ankles to the ugly red couch.

"That is _not_ fair," Draco says, jaw dropped.

"Neither is life," Harry says, setting his wand on the floor beside the couch. Who knows if and when he'll need it again?

Draco closes his mouth. "Well, at least they're soft."

Instead of answering, Harry crawls down the blond, both sets of eyes still locked, until his hands are hovering above Draco's waist.

"Want me to?" Harry whispers.

"As surely as I'm a Malfoy, I _need_ you to."

"What if you're adopted?"

"My last name still changes."

"What if they lied to you?"

"Harry!"

Harry laughs and starts to undo Draco's belt. "You're so funny," he says, tossing the leather loop onto the floor.

"You're going to torture me, aren't you?" Draco says.

"Hence tying you up." He pops the button of Draco's trousers and drags the zipper down in single movements.

"I'm not sure if I'm okay with this..."

Harry bends down and grabs his wand, and then takes the ropes off of Draco's ankles. "It's my sick fantasy, not yours. Lift your hips."

Draco does, and Harry loops his fingers into the belt loops and pulls the trousers off in one fell swoop.

"I didn't know you wore boxers," Harry says, tossing the clothes with the rest of their things. "And they're Slytherin silve—good gods, are they _sparkling_?" Harry rests his hands on Draco's hips and shakes his head disappointedly. "Sweet Merlin, how did I _not_ know you were gay? How did _everyone_ not know you were?"

Draco gives an awkward shrug against his bindings. "Maybe it's because I'm a Malfoy. Malfoy's always have to look perfect and blah, blah, blah."

"Yes, well, you have done a good job at that."

Draco opens his mouth to answer, but his mouth just stays silently open as Harry bends down and bites onto the waistband of his underwear. Winking up at the silver orbs staring down at him, Harry starts to drag them down the blond's body. He tilts his head down so Draco will only be able to see the top of his head, and he closes his eyes to so he can wait to really look at Draco until he's tied up again.

When they're off, he watches the sparkling undergarment land softly with the other clothes, and then he makes the satin ropes wrap back around Draco's ankles. Breathing in deeply, he turns back to trace his eyes over Draco's nearly naked body. His hair—platinum blond and thin and fine—and his eyes—silver and young and vulnerable—and his lips—pink and full and his teeth biting down shyly on the bottom one—and his neck—long and always swallowing—and his chest—with those very erect nipples—and his stomach—long and smooth and stretched out over his ribs so that Harry can count them individually, but not so much so that he looks underfed—and his—

Harry's deep breath catches in his lungs.

For such light hair, the curls at Draco's groin are dark, dark brown. And jutting out from around those dark curls is Draco's manhood, longer than his, but not quite as thick—though it's nearly there, so strained against its skin that its curved up to his naval with the vein bulging so much its nearly pulsing.

"Now _that's_ a boner," Harry says, looking back up at Draco.

The vulnerable, innocent look in Draco's eyes disappears as he bursts into laughter, and the only thing that keeps Harry from laughing with him is the fact that his eyes are drawn back to the blond's bouncing cock.

"Yeah, um, thanks," Draco says, flashing a grin at Harry.

"For someone who looks like they're going to burst by a single touch," Harry says, "you seem pretty composed."

He gives another awkward shrug. "Malfoy. Son of a Death Eater, it happens."

"Well I'd rather make something _else_ happen."

Draco shudders. "Merlin, Harry, please make something else happen."

"Only because you said please," Harry says, rolling his eyes heavenward. Only his being a Slytherin keeps him composed.

Keeping his eyes locked dead on Draco's, Harry leans down and presses his lips to the vein.

"Unff, yup," Draco says, tilting his head back. "All this pent up sexual longing; there's no way I'm going to last more than five minutes."

In reply, Harry pushes his tongue through his lips and drags it up the blond's shaft.

A shudder ripples through both of their bodies; Harry's because even just the single lick tells Harry that Draco tastes so damn _good_ and Draco because there is a _tongue_ on his _cock_.

Harry drags his tongue up from the base to the tip twice more before he grasps the base with his hand and swirls his tongue around the tip. He watches Draco tilt his head back even further and bite his bottom lip _hard_, releasing a closed mouth moan. Harry continues to lick everywhere between Draco's legs; his cock and his balls and the hair. Right as Draco's arched neck begins to sweat, Harry pulls his mouth away from Draco's groin and starts to swirl it up his stomach.

"Unff," Draco groans. "I guess the…torture…begins now," he pants.

"Mmhmm," Harry breathes against Draco's saliva-slicked flesh. He dips his tongue into his naval.

"How…how long?"

"A while." Harry blows into his naval, and goose bumps push up all around it.

"Ugh."

Chuckling lightly, Harry continues to lick and kiss his way up Draco until he comes to the blond's nipples. Then he bites softly to them, causing Draco to stop biting his lip and give an open-mouthed moan.

Minutes pass and pass, Harry biting and licking and sucking and kissing everywhere but where Draco is making it blatantly obvious he needed.

Finally, after a particularly long kiss that involved both boys tongue-fucking the others mouth, Harry leans up and wipes his mouth on his sleeve. Draco is looking up at him with a pained but pleasured expression, and it just makes Harry want to laugh.

"You know," Harry says, leaning back down and snuggling his face into Draco's neck, "you're in a particularly wonderful position to be tickled to death."

"_Harry_…" Draco whines.

"Mmm, yes?" Harry says, biting lightly at the skin.

"Please," the blond growls.

_Now look who's getting feral_, Harry thinks with a mental grin.

"Please tickle you?" he says, being stupid on purpose.

"No, Harry, _please_."

"Oh alright!" Harry says, leaning back up from Draco and laughing. In one swift movement he grips the base of Draco's shaft in one hand, holds his hips down with the other, and bends down to swirl his tongue slowly on the head of Draco's cock.

At the touch, Draco lets out a low, guttural moan—which makes Harry just want to laugh again. He was avoiding Draco's cock for a _long_ time, and he knows the Gryffindor will get him for this…but Harry doesn't mind. Some things are worth it, and this is certainly something.

Their eyes are locked again; green to silver. Slytherin to Gryffindor. Lover to lover.

He feels and hears Draco's breath catch in his throat as Harry removes his hand and swallows his shaft hole. He watches Draco's eyes roll back in his head and tilt his head back as Harry pumps.

"H—Harry," Draco says. Harry thinks that Draco is warning him that he's already going to lose it, but instead he continues: "My ha-hands."

_I knew I kept that near for a reason_, Harry thinks as he reaches down for his wand. He releases Draco's raging hard cock from his mouth just long enough to whisper the ropes away from both Draco's wrists and ankles.

Draco's legs spread apart so that Harry has better access, and his hands come down to tangle their fingers in Harry's hair and grip tightly to his head as Harry continues to bob up and down.

Draco writhes beneath him, but eventually—longer than Draco said he would last—Draco reaches the top.

"Harry," he groans. "I'm going to…to…"

Harry's ready for it as Draco's shaft erupts, spurting warmly into Harry's mouth and down his throat.

Draco collapses, and Harry crawls back above him and lies on top of him, pressing his mouth to the blonds.

"It tastes funny," Draco mumbles as Harry pulls his lips away to his cheek.

"It tastes better with your lips are around your lovers cock."

Draco giggles tiredly. "Did you ever do that to George?"

"Yeah, once. Good thing, too, because when I did I ended up spitting about half of it out. You got the _practiced_ Harry."

"Mmm, yeah. Much better, that one."

"Have you…uh…I don't know. Never mind."

"You mean has anybody else ever done that to me? No. None of it."

Harry's eyes widen. "You…never? Nothing?"

Draco bites his bottom lip sheepishly and shakes head. "I'm a Gryffindor, remember? We choose one person and stick with them."

"You waited six bloody years for a blowjob?"

Draco buries his face in Harry's neck and says something Harry doesn't hear.

"You'll have to repeat that," Harry says, threading his fingers through one of Draco's hands. "My neck muffled you."

Draco arches his neck up so that his lips are beside Harry's ear. "You were my first kiss, too."

Harry snorts. Not in a way that he's laughing, but in a way that he's surprised.

"Damn," he says, turning to press a light kiss on Draco's nose. "Now I feel…used?"

Draco tilts his head to the left. "Used? By George? I thought you said you knew you didn't love each other, though."

"No, not that kind of used. I mean, like, contaminated, you know?"

"Oh! Yeah, I get it. But don't worry." He kisses Harry's chin. "I don't mind."

"You're sure?"

"I'm positive."

"Good." He kisses Draco hard on the lips, and Draco kisses him back, a low growl in the back of his throat.

"Ah, ah, ah," Harry says against the blond. "This is still my sick fantasy, remember?"

"I never said it wasn't," Draco says, sliding his lips down Harry's jaw line until he's buried inside of his neck. "I just don't want you to be…left out."

Harry moans as Draco sucks hard on the skin of neck.

"You know, I think I'm okay with you taking over for a little while," he says as casually as he can, which is really quite so. "I mean, if you want to."

"Oh, I _will_."

* * *

References: 1. _"It's a dangerous business, walking around Hogwarts. You step inside the gates, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no telling where you'll be swept off to."  
_This line is from _The Fellowship of the Ring_ movie, but I changed it up a bit. The original line is: Bilbo: "It's a dangerous business, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no telling where you might be swept off to..."

/

A/N: Not gonna lie, grape pudding sounds positively disgusting to me. Any kind of fruit flavored pudding does. I mean, Jell-O is great, but pudding? I can't even imagine it. The texture would just be all wrong to me. Ick. Also, please excuse my terrible sexual scenes. I mean, I guess they're _okay_, but I just feel like I totally screw them up. Except my later ones I think get a little better, partly because I've already had people read them to tell me if they were any good or not :P I also apologize for my interpretation of Dobby. I'm _horrifying_ with accents, if you've somehow yet to figure it out.


	13. Year 6, Part III

**Year Six, Part III: A Peanut Butter Relationship**

Beginning chapter A/N's: I just want it to be known that Lavender is completely out of character for this entire fic. She's still Gryffindor, she's just…very different.  
So I guess I'll dedicate this chapter to her! Because why not? :)

* * *

When Harry walks into the Slytherin common room, he's greeted by Gin sitting on the couch, facing him, the fury and confusion and sadness rolling off of her in waves.

But all _Harry_ feels is his fury.

"I do not want to talk to you," he growls.

"_Why_, Harry?" she says, fury vacant from her voice. "Why _him_?"

"Well, let's see," Harry says, deciding he'll talk to her anyway. "He's the best looking bloke in the _entire_ school, he's _brilliant_ with kids—or at least house elves, but that probably means he's good with kids too—and he loves his family, so he'll make a perfect _husband_ some day. He's open-minded—and I don't just mean he is automatically because he's gay; he tries new things and his okay with making friends in _Slytherin_. He's not afraid to cry or show any other emotion, he's a great listener, he's not loud or obnoxious but usually pretty quiet"—(_Usually_, Harry adds to himself with a mental grin)—"and he's absolutely _adorable_. I mean, did you_ see_ him in the Great Hall today, eating off my plate and skipping? Granted, it was mostly to freak everybody out, but it was still the cutest thing in the world. He—"

"Stop it!" Gin screams, holding her hands in the air and squeezing her eyes shut tight. "Stop, I don't want to hear anymore!" She lowers her arms and reopens her eyes. "But can't _I_ be that for you? I'm pretty attractive, and I show my emotions all the time, and I've had to deal with Ron all my life so I can be good with kids, and I'm _plenty _adorable!"

At her last words, building in volume as she goes, Harry realizes something. Not that Gin is blatantly hitting on him—that doesn't faze him at all; he was used to her making faces at him—but something else.

Slytherin's are the worst possible people to get in a relationship with, even if you're another Slytherin.

_We're not attractive_, Harry thinks._ We're dark and gloomy looking.  
__We're terrible with anybody underage, no matter our _own_ age. We don't talk to people, we don't play with children—we _deal _with people.  
__We don't love our families; they're broken, there's nothing left to love. Our own future families will never be good enough. Sure, we're all loyal to each other, but we'll never be good enough.  
__We're too open-minded for our own good. Look at us, becoming Death Eaters left and right for the darkest wizard in existence, just for a handful of power we know we'll be cheated out of in the end.  
__We're not quiet—we're watchful. People say we only talk when spoken to or if putting somebody down, and it's true, but only because we're always looking for blackmail material. There are things about Ron and Pansy I've noticed over the years that I could sell to the Daily Prophet for a good-sized bag of Galleons, even though they're only children nobody knows. I watch well.  
__And we don't show emotions (unless we're with fellow Slytherin's). We're cool and collected and _not adorable_._

But Harry simply says, "I'm gay, Gin. I've been gay since I was eight. _I don't want you_."

At his words, Ginny hides. Not physically, but she locks away her emotions, because she's no longer with a fellow Slytherin. She's with someone who's rejected her; a homosexual; a _traitor_.

"Fine," she says with a shrug that says she couldn't really care less. But Harry knows better. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"I hope not," Harry says in the same tone.

"I'll sit with Ron at the Gryffindor table."

"Good."

"Goodnight."

"Good riddance."

Swishing her hair, Ginny heads up the stairs to the girl's dormitories. Harry, without looking back, goes up his own stairs to talk to Neville.

_**OoOoOoO**_

The dormitory door opens and in walks Harry. His glasses are crooked, revealing tired eyes, and his hair is sticking up in every possible direction. His lips are swollen, his shoes are on the wrong feet, and the supposed-to-be left shoe isn't laced up.

_He could have tried a_ little_ harder to mask it_, Neville thinks, smiling warmly at the green-eyed boy. Well, no…Harry is a man. Only a year until he's of age and he's been through more than any forty year old has in their entire lifetime.

"Love to stay up and chat," Blaise says, swinging his legs out of his bed, "but I have Astronomy homework."

"It's the first day of school, Blaise," Greg says. "If you're going to go make out with someone, just tell us."

"Fine," Blaise says, shrugging. "I'm going to go make out with someone."

"Who?" Harry says, something glinting in his eyes. "I mean, from what House?"

"Ravenclaw. Why?"

"I'm testing something. Greg, which House would you take?"

"Uh," Greg says, "as weird as this is, I've always thought the Hufflepuff's were a pretty attractive bunch."

Harry nods and turns to Neville. "I understand this predicament, but ignoring the obvious, which House do you like?"

Neville sighs, looks at the ceiling of his bed, and then back up at Harry. He really doesn't want to answer. Gryffindor's are oblivious idiots, Hufflepuff's are useless gits, Ravenclaw's are smart-arses (_literally_ smart-arses, in more than one way), and Slytherin's are usually demanding as all hell.

_Eenie, meenie, meenie, mo_, he thinks with a mental grin.

He ends up on Slytherin.

"Ravenclaw," he says.

Harry chuckles darkly. "Slytherin's are _bastards_. And nearly none of us go for a fellow Housemate because we _know_ it. We're dark and we're evil and we hate everybody and everybody hates us back and we always choose the wrong side!" He spits it all out hysterically, emphasizing every other word. "Salazar Slytherin may have been a cock, but that doesn't mean _we're_ supposed to be! He got the Sorting Hat to choose people who are loyal to their families and to being pureblood—Hermione and I are the awkward kids over here, I admit—and to being natural born leaders, not bloody fucking twats! We're supposed"—he cuts himself off, staring across the room at the enchanted window (that reflects the weather outside just like the ceiling in the Great Hall does) that Hermione had set up for them so that they would know what to wear for that day. Its pitch black right now, but across the fake, black windowpanes it says, "_Friday, September 1, 12:34 in the morning. Warm but very windy_." It was Hermione's special touch, written in her own small, curling handwriting in glowing silver that stands out nicely against all the black.

"That's it!" Harry finally exclaims, pushing his glasses on the right way, his eyes shining brightly through. "All of us being leaders, we _all_ want to lead, so we're _always_ getting mad at each other for screwing us over! The first Slytherin's came in all nice, but then got mean because they were always annoyed with people. Next thing we know they've got kids who take after them, who have kids who take after them, and it goes on and on and on. It's a never ending cycle of twats!" Harry finishes with a bright smile.

Neville and Greg blink at him, and Blaise is the first to speak: "That's stupid, coming from someone who one, had Gryffindor parents and two, never even met said adults."

"My parents are Gryffindor's too," Neville says, "and they've never exactly been around to raise me anyway. My grandma went to Beauxbatons, even, so she never had any House drama. And what about Malfoy? His dad's a Slytherin, but he's a Gryffindor, and do you not remember how shy he was the first couple of years?"

"And when have I ever wanted to lead anything?" Greg says, cocking an eyebrow.

"Fine!" Harry screeches, throwing his arms up into the air. "Forget the natural fucking born leaders! The Hat does choose us for being bloody fucking twats!" He collapses face first onto his bed.

"Harry, stop cussing," Blaise says, stepping into his shoes. "You're bad at it." And he leaves the room.

Harry rolls over and says, "I'm surprised he didn't' say anything about Drake and I in the Great Hall."

_Drake?_ Neville thinks with an inner grimace. _I hate my life._

"We already told him," Greg says. "Neville and I agreed that, being in the same dorm, he deserved to know."

Harry nods and looks at Neville. "Did you...?"

Neville knows he's referring to "their part" of the story, so he shakes his head no.

Harry nods again, and then pulls off his glasses and says, "I'm going to bed."

_Great_, Neville thinks. _Now it's time to talk. There's just…there's nothing to say!_

"Me too," he says out loud.

"I guess I'll do the same, then," Greg says with a shrug.

The three boys pull the curtains closed around their beds, and Neville's view of his friends is cut off. He only has time to slam his face into his pillow before he hears Harry whisper the _Muffliato_ spell at Greg.

_Here it comes_, he thinks, sitting up against the wall where his bed is.

His curtain is yanked open to reveal Harry, still without glasses and now without shoes. He climbs into Neville's bed without invitation (not that he'll ever need one) and recloses the curtain behind him.

"There's nothing to say, Harry," Neville says, giving him his second pillow out of habit. Harry and him had talked a lot like this after George left with Fred. Never about anything important; just homework and professors and blackmail material. They had a _lot_ of blackmail material.

"Nonsense," Harry says, holding the pillow tightly to his chest like he always did. "There's always something to say; always a question to be asked."

"Then say your something; ask your question."

"My question: are you okay with this? All of this. Draco and I and being friends with Gryffindor's and _us not being something_."

Neville wants to cry. He is okay with it—he is. He hates Malfoy—hates him for being a Gryffindor and for being related to the woman who had nearly destroyed his parents and for stealing Harry's heart before Neville even had a chance to and for a whole list of other things he has absolutely no control over. He hates the Gryffindor's and how they think they're all the bravest and the best and the worthiest. They're oblivious to how much people really don't like them. It's not just the Slytherin's that don't like them; it's the Ravenclaw's and the Hufflepuff's, too. Those two hate the Slytherin's more, but they also don't enjoy the Gryffindor's, because they were always third and fourth place. Always. And Neville hates that he and Harry aren't more than friends. He wants Harry—he loves Harry—and he'll never have him. He's okay with it, but that doesn't mean that he doesn't hate it.

"Yes," Neville says. "Yes, for Merlin's sake, I'm okay with _all of it_! Please, Harry, let me sleep now. I want to sleep..." He's sure he's going to cry if Harry says no. He's sure he will...

But Harry nods—reluctant and slow, but he does—and pulls the curtain open again. "I know you're not telling me everything," he whispers, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and setting the pillow down. "I want to ask George if he can read it"—(Neville's breath catches in fear)—"but I won't"—(his fear goes away). "Goodnight, Neville."

Harry gets off the bed, pads across the floor, and crawls into his own bed. He whispers the Muffliato spell off of Greg, and then says in a normal voice, "Goodnight, Greg. Sleep tight, Neville. Tell Blaise if I'm asleep not to let the bedbugs bite." And he closes his curtain.

That's the way Harry always tells them goodnight—except Blaise is usually with them so he tells him his sentence himself. It's some muggle saying he's read in books. The Dursley's never said it to him, but he's always like to say it himself, no matter how childish it is.

"Night!" Greg says cheerily—or as cheerily as a Slytherin can get, especially after the things that have happened tonight.

"Goodnight, Harry," Neville says quietly.

And then, closing his own curtain, he casts a silencing charm on himself and cries himself to sleep.

_**OoOoOoO**_

_Back when Draco and Harry had separated..._

_Blowjobs are good_, Draco thinks, skipping through the corridors to Gryffindor tower. _Who knew how much I was missing out! But I'm glad I waited for Harry to do it. Someone semi-experienced; someone I love. Yes, sick fantasies including blowjobs are very good._

"Pasty noodles!" he says happily to the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Draco!" she exclaims. "I try to be nice and cheery on the first day for the first years, but this has no excuse! You're a sixth year, after all!"

Draco looks down at his hands. "Sorry."

"It's quite alright. Just…stop it." And she swings open.

Upon crawling in to his common room, his good mood is immediately squashed all over by seeing every last one of the Gryffindor sixth years staring gravely at him. Well; most of them are; some of them are smiling, which helps a bit.

Ron, Pansy, Dean, and Parvati seem to have developed an angry twitch in at least three parts of their bodies, while Vince, Seamus, and Lavender are all just giving him bright but sad smiles.

"Oh," Draco says as the Fat Lady shuts him in. "A welcoming committee. Awkward." But he's through with being sad about his friendships (for now). Now it's time to take after his father; it's time to be a sarcastic little bitch, a heartless Slytherin bastard.

"What brings y'all down here?" he drawls. He surprises himself. He sounds so much like his father it frightens him. Except the "y'all"...both he and his father had never said that in their lives.

"You, naturally," Dean says icily. "Fucking _queer_."

"Well!" Draco chuckles. "We know what side _you're_ on."

"Regrettably so," Seamus mumbles.

"Right then!" Draco says cheerily, clasping his hands together. "How should I divide you all, then? Harry Haters and Slytherin Supporters?"

"No," Pansy growls. "Funny as you think you are, I could care less about you and Harry. It's that you're _gay_. So we've divided ourselves into just who's okay with it and not okay with it in general."

"Well _damn_," Draco drawls. (He likes drawling. Makes his sarcasm so much more effective, and who doesn't like sarcasm?) "I was hoping for something at least a little creative."

"Sorry to disappoint," Ron says darkly.

"Yes, well, to make up for it," Draco says, "I think you should all separate yourselves. I'd like to have a word with each of your little...groups."

Draco barely contains his laughter as they actually listen to him, the "not okay with it" group spreading out on the couches by the fireplace, and the "okay with it" group sitting down at the study table.

Seven Gryffindor six years. Four of them—Pansy, Ron, Dean, and Parvati—on the couches and three—Vince, Seamus, and Lavender—at the study table. Including Draco it's four against four. Including the Slytherin's it's five against eight.

_Ha_, Draco thinks. _We win._

"I'll be right over to you mates," he says out loud, waving to the study table. They nod and start their own little quiet conversation.

With a confident grin and a square of his shoulders, Draco stomps over to his newfound enemies. "I know why Ron and Pansy are here," be begins, "but would you please inform me as to why Dean and Parvati have joined the Dark side as well?"

"You're _gay_," Dean hisses. "It's disgusting."

"And I just don't like the Slytherin's," Parvati says. "_Especially_ the Boy Who sodding Lived. But homosexuality is...okay with me."

"Ooh," Draco says, wiggling his fingers out in front of him. He remembers wanting to do that to Harry after he fainted from the dementors in third year...but he hadn't. He knew what _he_ felt when the dementors were on the train, and he knew Harry would have felt so much worse with all he had been through, even at that time. He didn't hate him enough to hurt him over that. "Looks like we have groups within the group!" he continues. "The homophobe's and the Slytherin haters. Nice of you all to be so supportive."

All four of their mouths open, but Draco holds up a hand to stop them. "I'm not finished," he says, and then lowers his hand. "I admit I'm not being very Gryffindor-y over here myself, but I'm doing the Sorting Hat a favor, so to speak. If Harry and I can be _lovers_, then I think you and the Slytherin's can be _friends_. I don't care if you support my liking males and/or Slytherin's—I care that you have to _turn on me because of it_." He grounds the last sentence out. "Six _years_ of being friend—and in Ron's case best friends, Pansy's case second pest—and you _turn on me_. Because _I'm_ tainted?—because _I'm_ the traitor?"

The four again begin to speak, but Draco again cuts them off: "No, fuck you and your excuses. If you want to be this way, then so be it. That's all I have to say to you people. Any questions? Any comments? Maybe some complaints? Please, tell me something, anything, I'm begging you." Draco's never let the sarcasm flow so freely from his lips. He's honestly terrified of it; he doesn't want to change to how his father was in school. He's a Gryffindor—the Sorting Hat told him so. The Sorting Hat is never wrong...

…  
**_FLASHBACK  
_**…

"_YOU'RE Draco Malfoy?" the Sorting Hat exclaims on top of Draco's head. "My, my, my, this IS a surprise! You're nothing like him—nothing at all. So young—so pure—so innocent... Still so smart, though. You're at least a little bit like him. Hmm..."_

"_Do you mean my father?" Draco asks quietly. "I'm not like my father?" PLEASE, LET ME BE NOTHING LIKE FATHER._

"_Oh, no, no, no, not him! Somebody else. You and you father are VERY different. No worries there. No worries at all._

_Draco opens his mouth to thank the Sorting Hat, but the Hat shouts, "Gryffindor!" before had has a chance to say a thing._

….  
**_END FLASHBACK_**  
….

Draco still doesn't know who _he_ is. Who had the Sorting Hat meant? Not his father; it said specifically that that wasn't it. But who? Maybe Harry? They were complete opposites, in all honesty... Oh well.

Focusing back on all four of them, he looks sternly into each of their faces. Pansy is glaring intensely, but there is a hint of registration for his words in her eyes. Ron is staring angrily into the fire; his freckles stand out against his surprisingly pale face like black against white. Dean has his arms crossed tightly over his chest and his lips pressed into a spiteful line. Parvati is...trembling. All over her entire body.

"Um," Draco says, concerned that she's going to throw up. "Parvati, are you—"

"_Oh, Draco_!" she wails, leaping up and wrapping her arms tightly around his waist. "Draco, I'm so sorry! You're right—of _course_ you're right! It's your life and you should be able to do whatever you want with it! I'm so, _so _sorry! Please, please, _please_, forgive me!"

Draco's arms have already wrapped around her shoulders. "Yeah, right, because I'm totally going to refuse myself less enemies and more friends. Of course I forgive you. And Dean, stop gritting your teeth. If you have something to say just _say_ it."

Dean shakes his head no.

"Suit yourself. And Parvati, please let go of me now. I'm not a big fan of hugging or...girls"

Parvati pulls away with a tearful chuckle. "What should I—I mean—what—"

"Just go sit with the good guys for a second. I'll be right over."

She nods and turns over, doubtlessly telling them all Draco had just said to "the Dark side".

He turns to the now three Slytherin haters. "Ha," he says rudely. "Now it's four against nine."

"Uh..." Ron says. "There are only three of us, and you only have—"

"_Including_ the Slytherin's, I mean. Oh! I forgot about Luna! That makes _ten_! _HA!_ Anyway." He smoothes one hand down his hair and one down his shirt. He knows he still looks like a mess after being with Harry. He had seen it in the Fat Lady's eyes.

"I'm done talking to all of you. Goodbye and goodnight." He spins dramatically away from them, and then marches happily over to his friends at the study table.

"So how'd it go?" Lavender asks casually, her hand propped under her chin.

"What, Parvati didn't tell you?" Draco asks, sitting down next to Vince. He was all alone on his side of the table.

"Well, yes, but I wanted to hear how it _went_, not what _happened_."

"Well, I got Parvati over here, right? Obviously my words were pretty effective. The other three are just bigots."

"Your words were very effective," Parvati chirps. "I could nearly hear their recognition at your words."

"Yeah, me too."

They lapse into a few seconds of comfortable silence. And then Draco speaks again to Lavender and Seamus: "So, what brings you two over here?"

"I just don't care," Lavender says just as nonchalantly as before. "I have homosexual friends at home, including a few house elves. Honestly, you could be sexually attracted to _mountain trolls_ and I wouldn't care. It's your life, not mine; I'm not going to sit back and tell you how to live it. Those three are just stupid."

"Yes, thank you, Lavender," Seamus says, "for voicing your opinion of your fellow Gryffindor's in such a manner _again_."

Draco blinks at him, knowing instantly why Seamus is so angry. Dean is his best friend, but…no. "You do _not_," he says, reaching across the table and grabbing Seamus' wrist. "You guys are best friends! And…oh, Seamus, I am _so_ sorry. He'll hate you forever!"

Seamus first looks surprised, then scared, then sad, and then angry again. "Yeah, I've thought about this. I know, thanks. You don't have to say it out loud."

"Does he know?" Vince asks.

Seamus frowns. "Merlin, you too? Am I that _obvious_?"

Lavender and Parvati nod.

Seamus lets his head bang down on the table. "I don't know what to do," he says, his voice slightly muffled against the wood. "It's just… We've talked about it before. I mean, he doesn't know that I am or that he's the one that I like, but we've talked about homosexuals in general. I spoke first and I told him that I was all for them and I can't stand it when people are against it. Then it got really awkward when he told me he was the exact opposite. I was going to tell him, too…thank gods I didn't." He leans back up and wipes his free hand across his face, because Draco is still holding tightly to his wrist.

"We'll beat him up for you," Lavender says, linking arms with Parvati.

"Ooh, yes, I'd love to," Parvati says, smiling brightly at Lavender and then turning back to Seamus. "And then we'll tell him that if he doesn't go gay like _BAM_ then we'll be back when he least expects it."

Seamus actually snickers. "Thanks, girls, but I'm good. So…please don't."

They frown and with an actor's sigh Lavender says, "Only because you asked us so nicely not to."

"So…" Vince says. "What are you going to do? Seamus, I mean. About you and…" He waves his hand in the air to symbolize Dean.

Seamus shrugs and then plunks his elbows on the table and rests is chin onto his arms. "Avoid him at all costs with you mates since we're going to have to start ditching them since we're 'against them'."

"That won't be necessary," Draco says quietly.

The four turn to stare at him. "What do you mean?" Lavender asks. "Of course it's necessary! I'm not hangin' around a bunch of…what's that word you used earlier? Bigots?"

"Yeah, that was it," Parvati says.

"I prefer _numpty_," Vince says.

"This is not the point!" Draco says, throwing his arms above his head. When the four others are looking paying attention to him again he lowers them. "What I mean is, it's not necessary because I'm not going to let you ditch them."

All four of them speak at once:

"Try and makes us _not_," Lavender says with an _I'm a white bitch don't mess with me_ attitude.

"Ex_cuse_ me?" Parvati says.

"Sorry?" Seamus says, lifting his head.

"Don't even _suggest_ it, Draco," Vince says with a glare.

"No, stop it," Draco says. "Just listen to me. I don't want to break our House apart. I won't do it." He turns around to see the three on the "Dark side" still at the fireplaces. He turns back to his study table and continues: "They're all still sitting over there, and I want all four of you to march over there and say whatever the hell you want to say to get them to believe that you're really on their side and that you're not going to hang out with me anymore."

They all burst into loud protests, but Draco quiets them before their voices can carry to the couches.

"You've got to be _kidding_," Parvati hisses, her eyes like fire. "I just walked away from them for _this_? For you to tell me I've got to go right back over to them?"

"I'm not kidding," Draco says confidently. "And even if you refused I would leave you mates on my own so you'd eventually concede anyway."

"But _Draco_," Seamus says, gripping tighter at his hold of Draco's hand. "What about you?"

Draco shrugs. "I've got the Slytherin's. And I can become friends with Lovegood and whoever else wants to be friends with me. It's my plan to get to know that Millicent Bullstrode girl. She seems to have a lot of friends in all the houses but Gryffindor, as…homely as she is."

"Draco, you're far too nice sometimes," Lavender says, rolling her eyes. "If you're going to insult someone you've got to do it right. Millicent Bullstrode looks like an overgrown cow and you know."

Draco shakes his head. "I'm trying to be her friend, Lavender, not describe her."

Vince and Seamus burst into laughter, and Draco jumps up and yells, "YOU BASTARDS!" at the top of his lungs.

They stop laughing instantly and stare at him with wide eyes.

"Draco?" Vince says.

"Shut up and get over there!" Draco hisses. "Get over to the Dark side! I'm not kidding, guys. I'm acting so that they think you were laughing at the fact that you got me to believe you were really okay with all of this. I want you to get up and walk over there and tell them that you only pretended so that you could hurt me even more."

All four of them start to protest, Lavender the loudest, but Draco shouts: "I SAID TO FUCKING GO!"

They all stare wide-eyed at him, and against his plan a tear escapes from behind his eye. _I'm really doing this_, he thinks, quick wiping it away with his sleeve. _I'm giving up my friends so that I don't turn our House into one giant, vindictive lump. I'm so glad I'm nothing like my father._

"But, Draco," Parvati whispers.

"Please go," Draco says, hanging his head so they can't see his eyes and he can't see any of theirs. "I'm trying to save us. Please, just…just go."

And they do. Draco looks up just in time to see Seamus going first:

He lets go of his hold on Draco's hand, wipes his eyes with his sleeves, and then plasters on a great, big, fake, happy smile on his face. He jumps up, spins around the edge of the table, and then starts to skip—_skip_—over to the other three sixth year Gryffindor's.

Draco ducks his head again as the other three plasters on their own smiles. He doesn't want to watch them go.

He hears Vince go first, his big body lumbering across the common room. Next goes Parvati, twirling daintily across the stone and rugs. But Draco doesn't hear Lavender go.

"Lavender," he says quietly. "I'm going to hurt you."

"I'd kick your arse and you know it," she says, and the next thing he knows she's crawling over the table and sitting down beside him. "Look at me, you big fat stupid blond."

"No," Draco growls.

And suddenly she's gripping his face tightly in her hands and pulling his face up to look at her anyway. He tries to swat her hands away but she just continues to glare at him.

Draco gives up with a sigh. "Would you just _go_? You _don't _want to be friends with the Slytherin's! I _know_ that! You're going to hate them!"

"Would you just shut up and listen to me?"

He stops talking instantly.

"You're right; I _don't_ want to be friends with the Slytherin's. I'm glad you're doing it, though. Get to know your dad's side of the world a bit, too, alright?" And then she kisses him on the cheek. "I love you, okay?"

Draco nods blankly at her.

"Get to know your father," she says again.

And then she's standing up and sauntering over to the others like she's the goddess of beauty, her hips swaying in time with the crackling of the fire.

_**XxX**_

Draco goes up into the sixth year boys' dorm before anybody else has a chance to. He quick changes into his pyjamas, and only until he's in his bed with the curtain pulled tightly closed does he realize there's a package on his pillow, plus a note written on a wrinkled piece of parchment that obviously didn't come with it.

/

_This is from your mother. It showed up when you were still with Harry. As far as I can tell there's no note that came with it. Maybe it's in the package, but I don't know. Have fun with it.  
—Vince_

/

Draco unwraps it and sees that it's the book his mother said she was going to send him, and there is in fact no note with it. He opens to the inside of the front cover because his mother always writes something there in her books. There is something there, so he knows that it's hers:

/

_This book is the property of Mrs. Narcissa Malfoy  
Please return by owl to the Malfoy Manor_

/

Draco smiles to himself and then closes the book again. It's a hardcover book, about eight inches long both ways and a centimeter thick. The dominant colour is Ravenclaw blue, and there's a woman holding a sleeping child and another book. The title (_The Drowsy Hours_) is written across the top in curved writing, and the woman who selected the poems (Susan Pearson) and the books illustrator (Peter Malone) is across the bottom in the same font, but smaller and not curved. Draco can tell that it's a muggle book, so he's surprised that his mother even knew of its existence.

He closes his eyes and opens to a random page, and then bends his head to stiff at the inside seem.

_Ah, how I love the smell of new books_, he thinks. _Even old books. Especially old books._

He closes the book and then opens his eyes, and then reopens it to another random page.

The picture is of a man on a ladder leaning against nothing, holding up a wand. Flying above him, carrying a lamp holder with a star inside, is a girl in a pink dress. The man's wand is at the star, and behind him is a tree with a window, and there's a bird sitting in the window, and a bat is flying beside the tree.

/

_When the bat's on the wing and the bird's in the tree,  
Comes the starlighter, whom none may see._

_First in the West where the low hills are,  
He touches his wand to the Evening Star._

_Then swiftly he returns on his rounds on high,  
Till he's lit every lamp in the dark blue sky._

"The Starlighter" by Arthur Guiterman

/

Draco does not read the poems in order. What's the point, when order is such a distant factor in his life that he's not even sure it still exists for him? He just chooses the ones with the coolest pictures.

The next picture is of a boy sitting on the ground with his knees hugged to his chest. There's a fire in front of him, a river beside him, and mountains and hills smaller than real life with mini trees are on his other side. Behind the mountain there are two prancing gazelles, and there's a regular sized tree buried inside of the mountains.

/

_Prairie goes to the mountain,  
Mountain goes to the sky.  
The sky sweeps across to the distant hills  
And here, in the middle,_

_Am I._

_Hills crowd down to the river,  
River runs by the tree.  
Tree throws its shadow on sunburnt grass  
And here, in the shadow,  
Is me._

_Shadows creep up to the mountain,  
Mountain goes black on the sky,  
The sky bursts out with a million stars  
And here, by the campfire,  
Am I._

"Open Range" by Kathryn and Byron Jackson

/

Order is like a forgotten dream that, even upon trying so hard to do so, he can still not remember what it was like...what it _is_ like.

This illustration is of a man in a mask, a hat, and a red cape riding a brown horse into the wind. Draco knows it's into the wind because the tree beside him is bending in the opposite way he's facing, and the ocean beside him is blowing the same direction, and the steam from the boat is blowing that way as well. It's nighttime and leaves are flying off of the tree and some of the steam from the boat is red.

/

_Whenever the moon and stars are set,  
Whenever the wind is high,  
All night long in the dark and wet  
A man goes riding by.  
Late in the night when the fires are out,  
Why does he gallop and gallop about?_

_Whenever the trees are crying aloud,  
And ships are tossed at sea,  
By, on the highway, low and loud  
By at the gallop goes he.  
By at the gallop he goes, and then  
By he comes back at the gallop again._

"Windy Nights" by Robert Louis Stevenson

/

But honestly, who, when there is nothing too drastic to take care of, would want order anyway? Draco can see the Minster wanting order, but he cannot see Harry wanting order. What is there in Harry's life to keep at bay? Only one out of five of his friends refused to accept him, while Draco had sent all of his friends away for the greater good. So really, there is nothing for him to keep order of. All he has to do now is force himself to sleep.

This is the last poem of the book. Its drawing is of a beautiful island, lots of trees and birds and cattails. Beside it is the water, and in the distance so that it holds no detail is a man inside of a canoe, drifting towards the island. It's one of the simplest drawings in the book, but it makes Draco want to cry.

/

_The long canoe  
Toward the shadowy shore,  
One...two...  
Three...four...  
The paddle dips,  
Turns in the wake,  
Pauses, then  
Forward again,  
Water drips  
From the blade to the lake.  
Nothing but that,  
No sound of wings;  
The owl and bat  
Are velvet things.  
No wind awakes,  
No fishes leap,  
No rabbits creep  
Among the breaks._

_The long canoe  
At the shadowy shore,  
One...two...  
Three...four...  
A murmur now  
Under the prow  
Where rushes bow  
To let us through  
One...two...  
Upon the shore,  
Three...four...  
Upon the lake,  
No one's awake,  
No one's awake,  
One...  
Two...  
No one,  
Not even  
You._

"Lullaby" by Robert Hillyer

/

Draco falls asleep so softly he doesn't even know it, the dark of the night washing over him like the kiss of a butterfly's silken wings.

_**OoOoOoO**_

_The next morning..._

"Drake!" Harry calls across the Great Hall as he sees the white haired Gryffindor make his way in for breakfast. The amount of stares they get is the same as they had gotten the night before.

Draco looks over at him and doesn't even smile. He does, on the other hand, make his way over to Harry. When he sits down, his legs straddling the bench to face Harry, Harry gets a good look at him: his platinum blond hair is too fine and thin to make a real mess of itself, but it definitely needs some work. His clothes look terrible together (the dominant colours are black, pastel green, and the same colour green as the olives you put in margaritas), and Draco would _never_ let that happen. His shoes are on the wrong feet. His eyes are dark and bloodshot.

"Merlin, Drake, what's wrong?" Harry asks, bending down to untie his shoes.

"I slept like a fucking baby last night," Draco mumbles.

Harry leans back up with one of the boys' shoes in his hands. "Isn't that a good thing?" he asks with a raised eyebrow.

"No! Babies wake up every two hours! Whoever made up the phrase 'slept like a baby' in the way that they slept really well is an idiot."

Harry sighs and reaches down to do the other shoe. "I think he meant more along the lines while the baby is actually asleep they sleep all peaceful, because they do. Usually."

"Yes, and you've had many experiences with babies."

"Of course not, but I doubt you have either. Just all of your little cousins and other family members who pop in unexpectedly all the time." He leans back up with the other shoe in hand. "Here, put these on the right way now. This one goes on your left."

Draco sighs and grabs the shoe, paying about as much attention to what he's doing as a cat pays attention to somebody callings its name.

"Actually," Draco says, lacing the shoe up wrong so that Harry shoos his hands away and does it himself, "my cousins did in fact used to be younger, so that they were in fact babies, so I do in fact have quite a lot of experience, thank you very much. Besides, one of them is two, and he's quite the handful."

"And your views on them are...?" He takes the other shoe and sets to work so Draco doesn't have to.

"Oh, I love kids. I just hate everything right now."

"Even me?"

"Because that was an unbelievably stupid question, yes, even you."

Harry grins and leans back up from Draco's feet. "You do realize that you don't even sort of match, right?"

"Huh?"

"You're wearing the colours pastel green and olive green..."

Draco's eyes widen and he looks down at himself. "Merlin, that's disgusting. I need to go change."

"Not before you eat, you don't." Harry starts to fill a plate for him, and to his surprise the blond actually stays. "Eggs and pancakes. Do what you wish with them, as long as they make it to your stomach.

"What, no bacon?" Millicent Bullstrode asks from across the table.

"Drake doesn't like bacon," Harry says simply, and Draco nods to its truth as he eats from his plate. The only reason Harry knows that is because of his constant staring during meals throughout their five years before.

"One does not simply dislike bacon," Millicent says, giving the Gryffindor a disgusted look before going back to eating her own food.

"I have an idea," Harry whispers into Draco's ear.

"And?" Draco says around a mouthful of pancakes.

"Let's go on an adventure today."

Draco's eyes widen. "To where?"

Harry shrugs. "I don't know, but we'll need our brooms, a magic carpet, and Hermione's cat Rook."

"I...pardon? Why?"

"Why not?"

Draco sighs. "I don't think I'm up for anything today. I'm just so...tired."

"Then we'll sleep in a tree. Come on, pleeease? It's Sunday, so it's not like we're missing any classes. They won't start until tomorrow. I don't want to sit around getting odd looks anymore. Honestly, I'm afraid Professor Flitwick is going to pass out again..."

Draco sighs again, swallows his food, and instead of an answer like Harry was expecting he leans his head down on Harry's shoulder. "Yeah, let's sleep in a tree."

Harry's smiles down at the platinum blond head of hair on his shoulder, and then throws his arm lightly around Draco's waist from behind. "I would suggest the Whomping Willow, but you would probably hit me."

"If I had the strength," Draco says groggily, "I would do a hell of a lot more than _hit_ you."

"Ooh, someone's showing his inner Slytherin, I see," Millicent says with sarcastic excitement.

"You on the other hand," Draco says to her, "I can kick underneath the table without using any energy at all."

Millicent just laughs at him.

They sit there like that for a long time, Millicent watching Draco with reserved kindness. Harry doesn't eat anything—he hasn't eaten anything all morning. He was too busy watching for Draco and then too busy having him eat himself. He could eat now, but he doesn't really feel like it. He just wants to hold Draco against him until the world ends.

"So you're dating, then?" Millicent finally asks around a mouthful of eggs, making the question sound as casual as if she was asking what Harry's first class is.

Harry nods.

"Why?"

"Ask Ginny."

"Ew, no, I don't like her."

Harry chuckles lightly. "Join the club."

"Are you going to tell me, then?"

"Yeah, alright." So Harry tells her exactly what he told Ginny, adding a couple of small things like "he doesn't care about showing any affection obviously since he's got his head on my shoulder" and "he's not a total domination hog".

Millicent snorted into her orange juice on the last one. "You've slept together, then?"

Harry laughs again. "No, we're not quite there yet. We've done...little things, though."

"Like?"

Harry shakes his head. "Dredge up your own fantasies, Millicent. The real ones are _ours_."

"I was kidding anyway," she says with a small laugh. "How are you two doing, though?"

"Well, I think we're doing splendid. Why don't you ask him his own opinion, though? I can't...read his mind." And Harry's glad he can't. He probably wouldn't be able to read everything about him, anyway. He doesn't know him as well as George knows Harry, yet.

"He's asleep," Millicent says, grabbing another egg.

"What?"

"He is sleeping," she says slower. "Like, you know, on your shoulder?"

As if on cue, Draco yawns and stretches his arms out. When he's done, he's in a completely new position, his upper body curled on Harry's lap and his legs still straddling the table.

"Oh," Harry says, looking down at the half of Draco's face that he can see. The other half is buried in his stomach.

"Gonna wake him so I can ask?" Millicent asks.

"No. I'm going to wake him because I know he'll kill me if I let him live in those clothes any longer."

"Bit too much information, but okay."

"Says the girl who asked how far I've gone. And that's not even what I meant. I mean he's wearing a terrible colour scheme and he wants to change."

She bursts into laughter. "Harry, I'm not going to lie, but I want a boyfriend just like you."

Harry blinks at her. "Thanks?"

"I mean, anybody else would probably just say that they didn't want to wake their boyfriend/girlfriend because they looked so cute sleeping or because they're so tired. But not you. You're worried about everybody else seeing him. That's...well, it's sweet."

"Are you okay?"

"Look, I approve of your being gay with a Gryffindor, okay? I'm trying to treat this like I would treat any other relationship, and I thought I was doing pretty well."

"No, I mean, I don't know, you're usually so...crass. But in a nice way."

"Politely insensitive? Kindly stupid? Caringly gross? Please, Harry, I'm finally nice and you have to point out the obvious?"

"Good gods, Millicent, that's not what I meant!"

She laughs again. "Yeah, whatever, just get your boy up to his bedroom to change, would yuh?"

"No, I really feel bad now."

"You shouldn't. I really couldn't care less. You should know that."

Harry shrugs. "If you insist." He looks down and Draco and pushes his fingers through the fine, silvery blond hair. "Drake?" he whispers. "Are you going to wake up easy or do I have to yell?"

Draco groans and presses his face deeper into Harry's stomach and legs.

"Gods, stop that, your face is pressing into my cock and I don't want a hard on in the middle of breakfast when everybody is already staring at us."

Millicent and a few others close enough to hear burst into laughter, and that's what wakes Draco up—sort of.

"Wha...?" he says, looking up at Harry with slits for eyes. "No, go away, I'm sick of your stupid poetry book."

This time Harry joins in with the laughter, and Draco finally wakes up _completely_.

"Bloody hell, how long was I asleep?" he asks in a frantic whisper, sitting bolt upright and trying to smooth down his hair.

"You're hair's fine, Drake," Harry says, taking his hand away. "And not for very long. Not even ten minutes."

"Thank Merlin. Are my eggs cold?"

"Probably. Let's go up and get you changed, yeah?"

"Ugh, yeah, good idea. Gods, I'm so embarrassed. Let's hurry, all right? I don't want to see any faces."

"Yeah, I can tell."

"Wait, Draco, I have a question!" Millicent says as they stand up.

"What?" Draco says without looking at her. He just keeps looking at the ground.

"How do you think your relationship with Harry is going?"

"Peanut butter," he says absentmindedly, looking around the room at the same time that he's trying to hide behind his boyfriend. "Please, Harry, can we _go_?"

Draco doesn't ask, and Harry doesn't tell him, why everybody is nearly falling off their chairs with laughter as they walk away.

They get about to the door before Draco says, "I wish I ate more eggs. I'm still really hungry. We should stop by the kitchens before we go find a tree. What did you eat? Are you still hungry?"

"No, but we'll stop by the kitchens anyway."

Harry avoids Draco's question about his having eaten yet on purpose. He doesn't want to explain that he hasn't actually eaten anything at all, or the fact that he doesn't even want anything.

* * *

References: 1. _"One does not simply dislike bacon," Millicent says, giving the Gryffindor a disgusted look before going back to eating her own food.  
_This line is from The Fellowship of the Ring movie, but I switched it around a bit, obviously. The original line is: Boromir: "One does not simply walk into Mordor."

/

A/N: Obviously Millicent's a bit out of character as well, but Lavender is the worst. It's not so clear in just this chapter, but it gets _way_ worse. Just a heads up!


	14. Year 6, Part IV

**Year Six, Part IV: The Slythering Weasel**

Beginning chapter A/N's: This chapter is dedicated to me, because I'm so painfully _not_ funny that I need something to make me feel better.

* * *

The Fat Lady gives Harry a reproving look as he winks at her and follows Draco into the Gryffindor common room, and Draco throws her an apologetic glance.

"This place is so warm looking," Harry says, stopping in the middle of the room to look around.

"You get to show me your place next," Draco says, taking Harry's hand to keep him moving. "I bet it doesn't even have a fireplace!"

Harry frowns. "We do to have one."

"Hmm, surprising."

They go up the stairs to the sixth year boys' room, and as Harry walks in behind Draco he gasps.

"What?" Draco says, whirling around.

"You have a window!" Harry exclaims, staring with happy eyes at the window overlooking part of the Hogwarts grounds. "A real window! With real sun!"

Draco blinks at him and then bursts into laughter. "We are, in fact, in a tower. So yes, we have a real window, complete with real sun when it decides to grace us with its presence."

Harry blushes. "Sorry. Slytherin's don't see the sun much. Our rooms are underneath the lake."

Draco snorts. "Under the lake? It must be so dark."

Harry nods. "But hey, six years and I'm used to it. Obviously, since I thought real windows were all but myth."

Draco laughs. "Yeah, right. Come help me pick something to wear now."

The two boys spend about ten minutes going through Draco's clothes, each looking for a single outfit, and whoever's outfit is better is the one that Draco gets to wear. When they stand back and admire the two sets of clothes laid out on Draco's bed, they both burst into laughter.

"I don't like the one you chose," Draco says, wiping his eyes with his olive sleeve.

"Well I don't like what _you_ chose," Harry says, rubbing his own eyes with the heels of his hands.

The outfit Draco picked out consists of dark jeans that fit to his legs but aren't tight enough to cut off his circulation like most girls wear, a plaid flannel in shades of red with sleeves folded up to the elbows and held that way with another button, and a Ugg boots a dull gold colour with a height about an inch above his ankle.

Harry's, on the other hand, is more supporting the other Houses. Black slacks, a thin white button up with green buttons, a dark blue cotton coat with white faux fur lining the hood and all the inside, a black beanie, and black dress shoes Draco would never wear for sleeping in a tree.

"Draco, honestly," Harry says, reaching his hand out and resting it on Draco's shoulder. "Are those gold _Ugg's_? What, did you steal them from your mother or something? Those are for _girls_! That entire outfit makes you _look_ gay."

Draco rolls his eyes and pushes Harry's hand away. "Oh, Merlin forbid I look _gay_; it's not like I _am_ or anything. Also, Ugg's are very fashionable. It says nowhere that they're only to be worn on the female figure. Anyway, my mother wouldn't be caught dead in them." He scratches his cheek. "And, honestly yourself, Harry. It's the second day of September, not the end of November. _You_ get cold easily, but I'm going to _roast_ in that coat. I didn't even know I owned that. And you thought my _boots_ made me look gay. The cotton and fur isn't exactly something a male would wear. Not in the way _it's_ put together, at least."

"Is there a problem with it?" Harry asks. "I mean, if you can wear gold Ugg's I think you can wear a little fur, right?"

Draco shakes his head. "Not this time of year, I can't. Put all of that away."

"What?" Harry says, devastation written all across his face. "I spent ten minutes on this!"

Draco sighs and hangs his head, and then straightens back up. "Alright, how about I wear the shirt? Because those are my nice dinner pants, and I was sure I left those shoes back at home for important dinner parties, and I'll be sweating in no time in that coat."

"What about the beanie? Will you wear that?"

"Yeah, I didn't know I owned that, either. I guess I'll wear it... I've never worn one before."

Harry giggles in delight. "I'll help you. The colour of your hair and its cut are _perfect_ for it. Honestly, you're going to look _amazing_ in it."

"See?" Draco says.

"See what?"

"_You _get excited over clothes, too. Don't bash _me_ for acting gay—especially when I _am_."

Harry shrugs. "Hypocrisy. It's a talent."

"Yeah, sure, okay." Draco pulls off his red and green olive t-shirt, turning it inside out in the process. "Damn," he says, staring down at the seams. "I really need to stop doing that. I hate turning these back right-side-out. So much work." He looks up at Harry and tosses it to him before the Slytherin has a chance to refuse. "Thanks." He leans back down to take off his pants with a silent chuckle.

_Merlin_, he thinks, truly realizing what he's wearing for the first time. _I looked horrendous._ He slips off his black pants and tosses them near his bed to put away later. _At least my pants were okay, but...Merlin, did I even brush my hair?_ He grabs the shirt that Harry chose for him. _Probably not. I'm so excited to go to sleep. And it'll be an adventure in a tree, too! We'll have to make makeshift beds or something. Not much of an adventure that way...oh well._ He grabs the pants he chose for himself, and then tucks his shirt in. _Oh, this doesn't look as good as I envisioned it... Eh, whatever. It's better than what I had on._ He sits down on the bed and pushes his feet into the Ugg's. _And they're on the right feet this time!_

"Hey, thanks for helping me with my shoes this morning," Draco says, rolling his sleeves up his elbows to match the shirt he had wanted to wear. "I hadn't really registered that they didn't feel right."

He looks up, and instead of the answer he was anticipating to receive, Harry is suddenly straddling his waist on the bed, tangling his fingers in his hair, and kissing him hard on the lips. Draco is surprised, but he's perfectly okay with kisses instead of words, so he throws his arms around Harry's waist and kisses him right back.

When Harry finally pulls away, Draco chuckles breathily. "Hello to you too," he says, presses his forehead to Harry's.

"Do you have any idea how hot that was?" Harry breathes.

"The kiss? Well, sure, but I've think we've had hotter—"

"No, shut up, I'm not talking about the kiss."

"Then what—"

Harry kisses him again. "You're boxers are sparkling again. Gryffindor gold this time, but I still approve."

Draco arches an eyebrow. "My underwear turns you on, does it?"

"Merlin, Draco. No! _You're_ hot! You just...like...undressed. Right there. In front of me. Without even giving it a second thought! Or did you?"

"Give it a second thought?" Draco asks. _Did I?_ "No, I didn't. I just thought that it'd be okay since we've sucked each other off and whatnot."

Harry laughs, and then rubs his nose against Draco's. "Yeah. That's hot. Now don't move; I'm going to help you put on that beanie."

Draco groans. "I don't like hats. They screw with my hair."

"No they don't. Nothing can screw with your hair. It's too fine to screw up."

"That's naff. My hair's always a mess."

Harry arches his own eyebrow. "You only think that because it's your _own_ hair."

"Yeah, my hair means what I say about it goes."

"Yeah, well, you're my boyfriend, so you look how I say you look. Not how _you_ say you look."

Draco rolls his eyes as Harry crawls off of him, retrieves the beanie, and then crawls up beside him.

"Turn your body towards me," he commands, so Draco does, being as slow as he can on purpose.

But Harry just smiles warmly at him until he's in a good position, and then sets right to work on putting the hat (_That looks more like a sock, honestly_, Draco thinks) while humming merrily away.

A few moments later, Harry drops his hands to Draco's shoulders and says, "There. All done. And you look perfect."

"Can I have a mirror?" Draco asks, feeling dubious about his "perfection".

"Sure, but you'll have to get it yourself. I don't know where your mirrors are kept."

"Oh. Of course." Draco pulls out his wand and says, "_Accio mirror_!"

A regular sized hand mirror whizzes out of his open trunk and into his free hand, and he looks into it with a skeptics gaze.

"Well?" Harry says behind him. "Are you perfect or are you perfect?"

Draco doesn't know what to say. The hat is covering most of the top his head, and placed in such a way that his bangs are sticking out half across one of his eyes.

"What were the choices again?" Draco asks, turning his head around to face Harry.

The Slytherin gives him an annoyed look.

"Well, I just don't know how it's supposed to look!" Draco continues. "I'm not sure if it's good or not!"

"Just tell me if you _think_ you look good," Harry says, removing his hands from Draco's shoulders and crossing his arms.

Draco looks back into the mirror. _I don't look perfect_, he thinks. _I look like a Slytherin. Which I suppose Harry would think is perfect... Argh. Whatever._ He sighs and turns back to Harry. "I choose the latter."

"Perfect, then?" Harry asks with a teasing smile.

"Yes. Perfect. Thank you."

Harry smiles brightly and kisses Draco's nose. "Come on, then. I want to change too."

With a smile, Draco slides off the bed, Harry crawling off after him.

"Anything else you think you'll need?" Harry asks at the door, looking around the room. "Maybe a blanket?"

"I don't know why," Draco says, "but I have a feeling you have a nicer blanket than one I could find."

Harry nods. "Yeah, I think I do too. I guess let's g—whoa, what is _that_?"

Draco turns from looking around the room himself to see Harry staring wide-eyed and pointing at his open trunk. And sticking half out of the trunk is one of the most expensive things Draco owns—and happens to be planning on sharing it.

"It's a satchel," Draco says. "Madam Malkin's brand."

"I thought she only made robes..."

"No, it's not just an ordinary bag. They're very new. Hardly any stores are selling them yet. They're called Glimmer Bags—both words are always capitalized. They have unlimited space on the inside, and whenever you want something you only have to be holding onto it with one hand for whatever you want to jump out for you."

"Wow..." Harry says slowly, completely mesmerized.

"There's more," Draco says with a grin. "Right now it's...well...that colour"—(a shimmering white, nearly silver, but not)—"but that's because it hasn't been touched by human hands yet. Once it has it changes to the colour that best describes your...personality. Like...well, they're actually kind of complicated, but the gist of red is that you're fiery, and yellow means your cheery, and baby blue is bubbly and spunky. I have the list that came with it that explains all the colours."

"Then you haven't touched it yet?" Harry asks, moving over and sitting on the floor beside the trunk to look at it better.

"No, it still has its protective covering on." Draco goes and sits beside Harry and then pulls out the Bag. "Not until I say the word will it 'activate' itself."

"Can I...can I see it, then?"

Draco nods and sets the Bag in Harry's outstretched arms.

Harry turns it over and over, rubbing his hands over the smooth material of the cover and searching through the many pockets. When he finishes exploring he looks up at Draco with big, green, questioning eyes.

"Why haven't you touched it yet?" he asks quietly

Draco's cheeks start to burn.

_Ah yes_, he thinks. _The moment I've been waiting for and I get nervous. How like a Gryffindor._

Harry tilts his head to the right in more questions. "Alright, now you've _got_ to tell me."

"I was going to!" Draco protests, reaching up to push his bangs out of his eyes.

Before he gets there, though, Harry grabs his hand. "You'll mess it up," he says quietly. "Now tell me why you haven't touched it yet."

Draco sighs and lets his hand drop to his lap, Harry's dropping with it. "Mother and I bought this together back during the summer...the very day that we saw each other, but it was before you came in. Madam Malkin mentioned that she had some as soon as we walked through the door, and we bought one right away. Then we got to work on fitting my robes.

"But there are different types of Glimmer Bags. They only make them as satchels right now, but I mean that you can buy one that changes colour for the first three people that touch it. Or the first two, or the first four, or the first five. That's as high as it goes up to right now, but what I'm saying is that mother and I bought the one that would change colours for the first two people. And I..." He trails off to press Harry's cold hand (for what reason its cold, he doesn't know) to his burning face. Then, leaving it there, he takes a deep breath and continues: "Sorry, I'm blushing like a third year talking to her first crush. Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that I haven't touched it yet because I wanted you to be its second person."

Harry's jaw drops. "You _what_?" he asks in an incredulous whisper.

Draco grips tighter to Harry's hand still pressed against his face. "I know that we were...in a fight at that time, but that didn't mean that I had stopped loving you. Mother knew that I bought the two people one with you in mind, but she didn't say anything about it. I had it in mind for a...a form of apology, if you will. Father always told me that if you buy somebody a nice enough gift that they'll forgive you. I never believed it, of course, but I thought that you would hate me forever after what I did, so I thought that it was worth a shot. Hell, I'm rambling, aren't I? Well, maybe not, but a little bit. Or maybe it is a lot... Okay, now I am." He threads his fingers backwards through Harry's and looks straight into his green eyes.

Harry is still looking at him with a dropped jaw, but his eyes are sparkling like a sky full of stars when the moon isn't out to take away their glory. "If I didn't absolutely detest your dad—sorry, it's a given after everything that's happened—I would say that I agree with him," he finally says. "And I do agree with him, but we're pretending I'm not admitting it. I think if you handed this to me and said something like, 'Harry, please forgive me, and to make it even more sincere I bought us a Glimmer Bag to share' I would leap on you like a dog and say apology accepted." He looks down at the satchel still in his lap. "It's beautiful. I mean, part of its beauty right now is its colour. And those will change, but I know that they'll still be beautiful. I hope it shimmers like this does..."

"Would you like to find out?" Draco asks with a warm smile.

Harry looks back up at him. "Do I hate Voldemort with all of the passion in my soul? Yes. I would like to find out." He reaches his other hand up and presses it to the other side of Draco's face, and they both lean in for a kiss at the same time. It's a short kiss, but in it Draco pours all of his love for Harry, and he feels the dark haired boy doing the same.

They pull away, and Draco positions it carefully so that it's half on each of their laps and not touching any skin. "_Finite Incantatem_," he says.

The Glimmer Bag shines all over in a flash of light whiter than it already is, and when the light fades away it looks exactly the same.

"I'll go first," he says.

"Please do," Harry replies.

With only a little hesitation (not because he doesn't really want to do it, but because he's not sure exactly how it works) he reaches out, holds his hand above the body of the satchel, and then presses his entire hand down hard against it.

The colour spreads out from beneath his hand like water, and then swirls and curls around it like wisps of clouds. It doesn't cover the entire thing; it leaves part of it white for the second persons colour.

When Draco pulls his hand away, Harry asks softly, "Does the colour ever change?"

"Yeah, it can change once every three months. But it might not, because that colour might still describe you."

"As girly as it is, I like your colour."

"You touch it now, and we'll see if _your_ colour is girly. And if our colours match at all."

Harry does in the exact same way as Draco, holding his hand above and then pressing it down hard. And the Slytherin's colour spreads out in the same way as Draco's had, dripping and swirling and curling around Draco's, but now leaving no white.

When the entire Bag is covered with the two colours, Harry pulls his hand away.

"They do match," Draco says, looking up at Harry warmly. "Also, your colour is pretty girly too."

"I don't have a clue what either of them mean, though," Harry says, looking up at Draco with a baffled expression. "Where's the parchment?"

Draco pulls his wand out of his pocket and says, "_Accio Glimmer Bag list_!"

A piece of parchment flies out of his trunk and into his hand.

"Read yours first," Harry says, "Since you touched it first."

"Out loud?"

"Of course."

Draco clears his throat and reads out loud from the parchment: "If your colour is _lilac_, your word is _caretaker_. In more detail, this means that you are somebody who is good at taking care of animals, children, and anybody else who needs to be taken care of. You don't necessarily like to be around people, but you try to always be around when somebody is hurting, even if you don't like them very much. Sometimes you'd really rather be doing something else, but if the owl needs to stretch its wings then you let it out of its cage first; if a child wants to learn how to ride a broomstick you teach them without question; if an elder's magic isn't strong enough to lift the plates out of the cupboard then you're the first to volunteer to set the table. _You like helping people_."

When Draco is finished reading, he looks up at Harry to see the other boy laughing silently. "What's so funny?" he asks.

"It's perfect!" Harry says, leaning forward and throwing his arms around Draco's neck. "I told you you're going to make a perfect husband!"

"Thanks, but remember that these can change."

Harry pulls away. "Yeah, whatever. Way to ruin the moment. Read mine."

"Okay." Draco looks back down at the parchment and searches for Harry's colour. When he finds it, he again reads out loud: "If your colour is_ turquoise_, you're word is _blunt_. You like it when people tell you things straight up exactly how they are, and sometimes you do the same thing to the point of being mean without realizing it—though sometimes you realizes it all too well. You are also naturally very sarcastic, sometimes blending it in with your sentences so well that people don't notice and you're left to live with your joke on your own. You don't really like very many people but are perfectly alright with being around them, and you always want/have to be in the 'in crowd'. You're usually one of the more well-known and 'popular' people in where you live, and maybe even the world. _You like being known and very frank_."

As soon as Draco finishes reading he bursts into laughter. "Blunt to the point of being mean. That is so you." He looks up at Harry with a cheerful smile. "And both of ours say that we don't really like people but are okay with being around them. No wonder we get along so well."

"Funny how you were so good at hurting me when you're a...lilac...though."

"No, because the colours can change, remember? But I just realized something. We're going to start talking about our colours around people and they won't have a clue what we mean."

"You know what else? We're going to be carrying around a lilac and turquoise satchel. That is seriously manly."

Laughing, both boys stand up, the Glimmer Bag over Draco's shoulder, and exit the room, Harry walking Slytherin-like after him, with his hands shoved in his pockets and his face calm but superior looking and Draco skipping after him.

_It's a good thing nobody's back from breakfast yet_, Draco thinks when they reach the common room, and then he says out loud, "Harry, you need to lighten up. You look very composed over there, ultimately looking very boring."

The only thing Harry does is say, "No."

_**OoOoOoO**_

_Back when Harry and Draco are walking out of the Great Hall..._

"Hi, Mill," Neville says, sliding in beside his fellow Slytherin.

She looks at him, a few tears from laughing at Draco still clinging to her eyelashes. "Oh, hey Nev. Did you hear that? Bloody hilarious. What's up?"

"Yeah, I did hear it. Who knew a relationship could be so literally sticky. Anyway, I just wanted to sit somewhere else, and you seemed like a lovely person to sit by."

Mill snorts. "_Lovely_? Merlin, Nev, what's wrong with _you_ this morning? Girl problems?"

Neville looks away from Mill before she can see the look in his eyes. "Yeah. Girl problems." He grabs Harry's glass of juice and downs the rest of it in one gulp.

"Ooh, do tell."

"I'd...really rather not."

"Aw, come on."

He sighs. "No."

Mill huffs beside him. "Fine. At least tell me what they look like?"

_They?_ Neville thinks. He assumed Mill would ask what _she_ looks like. But now that she's said _they_...well, maybe he can tell her that.

"Well, alright."

"Sweet. What colour is the hair?"

"Black."

"And the eyes?"

"Green. Slytherin green."

"And the skin...?"

"Uh...they're Caucasian, if that's what you mean."

"Yeah, that's what I meant. How tall are they?"

"Five feet, seven inches."

"Do they wear eyeliner?"

"_What_?" Neville asks, turning to her with a sickened expression. And then he remembers that he's supposed to have girl problems, and girls usually wear eyeliner. "Oh, I mean, no. They don't...like that stuff."

Mill gives him a look that makes Neville think she's trying to read his mind. "I can't think of them," she finally says. "What House are they in?"

Neville shakes his head. "I'm not telling you that part. You'll know who I'm talking about."

"Well they're not Hufflepuff," she says, taking a bite of ham. "They're all either twenty feet tall or two. And it can't be Ravenclaw, because none of them have green eyes. Except Lisa whosit-whatsit and her younger brother, but they're both blond. So it's down to Gryffindor and our House." She takes another bite of ham and taps her chin with her free hand. "I would say it couldn't be Gryffindor because a Slytherin would _never_ date a Gryffindor, but that seems to have been disproved." (Neville tries not to flinch at Mill's last word, but he does anyway.) "So I'm not—oh my gods."

Neville bites his bottom lip and looks away.

"You flinched when I said...hell, what did I say? That something had been disproved. That was it. That a Slytherin would never date a Gryffindor was disproved..."

Neville looks back up at her gasp.

"It's _him_, isn't it?" she says rather loudly.

"Shh!" Neville says, clamping his hand over her mouth. "My _girl_ problems are _private_."

She pushes his hand away. "Merlin," she whispers, looking at him hard. "I already thought _George_ and _Harry_ were a surprise. Isn't _anybody_ in our House _straight_?"

"Shut up shut up shut up!" Neville whisper frantically, but some people still look over at him. Neville sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Why didn't you just tell me?" Mill asks.

Neville snorts and looks back up at her. "You're kidding." He leans in next to her hair and hisses, "Like I wanted anybody to know I'm a cast-off."

Mill leans away from him with a heart-wrenching frown. "A cast-off? What do you mean?"

Neville groans. He did _not_ want to explain this to her. "I'm not telling you. I didn't even want anybody to figure it out, so I'm not going to ex_plain_ it to you."

"I'll tell him," Mill threatens. "You know who I mean."

"Yeah, that'd be real terrifying if he didn't know already."

Mill swears under her breath. "What can I do to get you to tell me?"

Neville shrugs.

"Oh, come _on_, Nev! I'll do _anything_."

And suddenly Neville gets the most brilliant idea he's ever had in his life. Well...maybe not _that_ brilliant. More like the most evil, but maybe not even that. Anyway, he certainly likes it.

"Come on," he says, standing up. "I have a very private proposal."

She cocks an eyebrow and stands up beside him. "I'm going to regret saying I'd do anything, aren't I?"

Neville looks Mill over. She's nearly the exact same size he is, both in height (but a _little_ shorter) and width (but a _little_ thinner). She wears a lot of purple, but in such a way that she still looks like a badass, diehard Slytherin. Her hair colour is a mixture between brown and orange, reminding him of the fall season. Today she even has a black clip in her hair shaped like a leaf, adding to the autumn look. And apart from the purple, she even kind of dresses like him. But he doesn't really care that she looks like him; she could look like Lisa whosit-whatsit for all he cares. He just needs a girl.

He looks steadily into her eyes, and then grins. "You should be regretting it _now_." He turns around and starts walking out of the Great Hall.

Mill groans behind him, but he hears her follow after him.

_Curiosity killed the cat_, he thinks, his brilliant idea churning around in his head like memories in a pensieve.

_**OoOoOoO**_

_Back after Harry and Draco left Gryffindor tower..._

"I see no fireplace," Draco says as soon as he and Harry get into the Slytherin common room.

"That's because you can't see it from here," Harry says. "It's really low; that green couch over there is blocking it. That and it's put out until somebody walks by it. That's how all the torches are down here; motion activated."

"Huh," Draco says absentmindedly. "I like my common room better."

"Yeah, you'll hate my dorm, too. Come on. And I suggest you take my hand, because some of the torches are slow, and most of them are a little...dim."

Draco does, and then Harry leads him to a spiral staircase leading downwards.

"It goes _lower_?" Draco asks. "Merlin, aren't you afraid that an earthquake will bury you alive?"

Harry had never thought about it that way before. "No," he says. "I'm not afraid of death. If I was I would have experienced it a long time ago."

"Well, I'm terrified of it. I'm not ready to die."

"Come back as a ghost then."

"Do I get that _choice_?"

Harry shrugs in the dim torchlight, deciding he'd rather not discuss his conversation with Nearly Headless Nick about Sirius

He leads Draco down the stairs, and when Harry pushes open the door to his room he sees Draco's eyes dart straight to the fake window Hermione had made him and the other inhabitants of the room.

"It's not real," he says before Draco can comment. "It's like the ceiling in the Great Hall. Hermione made it for us. I remember Ginny trying to make it before Hermione could...what a disaster _that _was."

"Speaking of the Slythering Weasel, I s—"

"Oh, Slythering Weasel, ha-ha-ha, that's hilarious," Harry says dryly. "I swear I've never heard it before. Please, encore, encore."

"Oh, shut up," Draco says. "I was turned into a ferret once, I think I have the right to call somebody any other sort of rodent."

"Yeah, sure, but I'll make you say something else if you use it for anybody other than Ginny."

"Anyway!" Draco says, pointedly ignoring Harry. "I saw her at the Gryffindor table with Ron. I was hoping she had keeled over and died by now..."

"You and me both," Harry says with a sigh. "But no such luck. Come help me pick out clothes."

"I don't think so. You'll just make fun of what I pick out."

"No I won't!" _Yeah I will_. "That would be rude!" _But hilarious_. He barely succeeds at keeping a straight face.

"I don't think so. I know how your devious little brain works. Or at least well enough. _You_ choose an outfit while _I_ explore."

Harry rolls his eyes heavenward. "If you insist."

Minutes later (it doesn't take ten because two people aren't fighting for trunk-digging space) Harry looks over at Draco (who's exploring Blaise's area of living at the moment) and says, "Come here and tell me if this looks as gay as your shoes do."

Draco turns only his head so that Harry only sees one eye, and then bats his eyelashes. "Give me one good reason why you shouldn't just come over here to Blaise's bed and tell me yourself."

"Because if you come over here I'll let you help dress me."

Draco is over by Harry within the time that he blinks. "And to think _I_ was trying to be seductive. You're such a natural at this, 'Ry." He leans up and kisses Harry's cheek, and then turns to the outfit he chose. "Alright, let's see how unconsciously gay you are."

Harry did his absolute best to look as manly as possible, but he's not sure how good he really did: dark bellbottom jeans, a shirt nearly the exact same as the one he chose for Draco/the one Draco is wearing but with blue cufflinks, his best trainers, a dark blue peat coat that goes down to the middle of his thighs, and a striped scarf the colours green and light gray.

"Hmm..." Draco says, rubbing a finger across his chin. "So many things I can say, only one thing I can say first. Well"—he drops his hand—"I guess I'll comment on the fact that you're not going to freeze in the tree. Really, do you get _that_ cold?"

Harry's face starts to burn, and he nods. "I don't know why. I just always am."

"You do know there are warming spells you can use, right? And yes, I already knew because Fred told me back when...um...last year." Now Draco's blushing, too, and he looks down at the stone floor that's covered in thick green and silver rugs.

Harry sits down on the bed with crisscrossed legs and softly says, "Drake."

When Draco looks up at him, Harry only holds out his arms, and Draco crawls up beside him and curls into his lap without question.

"I forgave you," Harry says in Draco's hair. "I know you know that. As awkward as the topic is, I'm perfectly alright with you bringing it up as 'that time that I tied you to the bush by the lake' or 'the first time I thought I loved you' or something. I don't want it to be 'last year' or 'that one time' or 'that time that I think I screwed everything up and feel terrible for'. The past is the past, and just because we can't change it—well, we can, with time turners, but that's cheating—doesn't mean we should screw up the future over it. I try not to have any regrets in life, you know? It's not working perfectly, because I regret...well, no need for details there, but I do regret some things. But I don't regret anything between us, and I'm not going to start now. As much as I joke about us fighting all these years, it built up our relationship. Without it we would just be _the Boy Who Lived_ and _the Death Eater's son_. But now we're Harry and Draco, and we're going to stay that way. Alright?"

Draco sighs and wraps his arms rightly around Harry's chest. "Yeah, alright. One thing, though..."

"Tell me."

"Two things, actually..."

"Well, tell me that one, too."

"Firstly, when you said that there's no need for details..." He trails off and leans up so that his arms are still wrapped around Harry but they can look into each others faces as well. "You sounded just like my father."

"Oh," Harry says. "I'm...sorry?"

Draco shakes his head. "No, it's alright. When I went to visit him in Azkaban he started to say things and then said, 'well, no need for details' like twenty times. Alright, maybe three times. But that doesn't change what I'm saying."

Harry blinks at him. "As profound as that probably is for you, and I have no idea how to answer to it."

Draco chuckles lightly and leans back down into Harry's chest. "I wasn't looking for an answer anyway. Ready for the second thing?"

"Mmhmm."

"Do you mind telling me what some of those details are? I mean...I assume you were going to start giving some of your regrets. You don't have to, but I'd like to hear some, if you're okay with it..."

Harry sighs. "Maybe I'm not so ready."

"You don't have to tell me any of them. Sometimes when people say that they don't want you to tell them something if you're not ready they really mean 'I'm trying to guilt you into telling me', but I really don't want you to tell me if you don't want to. I have my own things I'm not comfortable with sharing with anybody yet, so I even _want_ you to have your own."

"As nice as that speech-ish thing was, I was actually going to tell you a few of them."

"Oh. Awkward. Um. Tell away, then."

"One of the biggest is...wow, you probably don't know about this. And here I thought I was done telling it to people..."

"What?"

"Shush and listen."

"Listening."

"You know how Peter Pettigrew and not Sirius Black got my parents murdered, right?"

"Oh, yeah, it was all over the news."

"Well, in third year, I had the chance to kill him. He's an illegal Animagus—Ron's pet rat Scabbers, actually—and he got away from Ron and into this...well, this place, and I was there with Neville, Hermione, Professor Lupin, and Sirius. Lupin and my godfather—I mean Sirius—were about to kill him, but I stopped them because I wanted his body to prove Sirius' innocence in the murder of a bunch of muggles and stuff. But...well, he escaped, and now Sirius is...is..." He can't say it. He just can't. Gritting his teeth, he growls, "I wish with every fiber in my being that I would have just let them strike him down right then and there. Then Sirius would have been proven innocent and wouldn't have to be stuck in hiding for years, and maybe Sirius would still be..." Good gods, why does he keep coming back to this? "Maybe if Wormtail—Peter, I mean—had been killed Voldemort wouldn't have come back yet, and you're father wouldn't be in Azkaban, and less people would be dead. So many things are all my fault. Being honest, it's probably one of the things I regret the most..."

"Harry, you're hurting me."

With a jolt Harry realizes he's being slowly gripping tighter and tighter to Draco's body. "Sorry," he says, loosening them significantly.

"No, that's fine, I would have done the same thing. And now concerning your regret... I'm so sorry. About your godfather and about Voldemort and about Pettigrew. My father's talked about him...he was a friend of your f—of Lupin, right?"

"And Sirius'. And my fathers. And my mothers. But I guess friendship doesn't mean anything to some people. I wonder what colour he would be if he had a Glimmer Bag..."

"Black," Draco says without missing a beat.

"What does that one mean?"

"Black means that you're untrustworthy, and very good at lying, especially when it comes to your own personal gain. They don't lie to save anybody else unless they think they'll receive something from it."

"Yeah, he'd be black. Deceiving, wormlike, demonic _bast_—"

"'Ry, you're hurting me again."

"Bloody hell, let's talk about something else or I'm going to break your shoulders. What's your favorite colour?"

"What? My favorite colour?"

"You heard me."

"Hmm...I'm going to go with lavender. And, as cliché as it is for a Gryffindor, I _really_ like gold."

"What do those mean on the list?"

"I don't know. Let me check."

Harry drops his arms from around Draco, and the Gryffindor leans up and digs through his pocket before producing the Glimmer Bag colours list. He watches Draco scan over it quickly, and then he looks up at Harry and says, "Uh, there is no gold. That stinks. Anyway, lavender basically means calm, mellow, and laidback. They also don't really care what happens with anything; they just go with the flow."

"Sound like anybody you know? Cause I can't think of any for either of them. Oh! Blaise! Blaise is totally a lavender."

"Yeah, I can think of one," Draco says with a nod. "As funny as it is, this is exactly like Lavender Brown. And it totally works out, because I know that the lavender scent is used to calm people down and it helps make people less nauseated if they are. And speaking of people we know with colours, I don't think I know any other lilacs. I do, on the other hand, know a turquoise. Borgin—you know, from Borgin and Burke's. He hates people, and that's why he runs a shop filled with Dark Arts things. So he doesn't get very many visitors. Well, that and he's good with them. But yeah.

Harry chuckles. "Lavender is lavender, eh? That is funny. You'll have to tell her about it."

Draco's cheeks instantly spread over with red, and he looks down at the list so that Harry can't see his face. "Yeah," he says, nearly inaudibly.

"Oh," Harry says, frowning. "Is she on Ron's side?"

Draco looks back up at Harry and shakes his head. "No, she's with me."

"Then...why are you...what?"

"I told my friends to give me up."

Harry blinks at the platinum blond boy. "Wait, _what_?"

"You heard me," Draco says. "I gave them up."

"But...I mean..._why_? _How_?"

"Vince, Lavender, Seamus, and Parvati are all okay with it, but I told them all to leave me and go back to Ron, Pansy, and Dean, who aren't okay with it. I told them to say that they weren't really okay with it, and I told them to do that because I don't want to break our House apart. I don't want to have two groups in Gryffindor tower. Harry haters and Slytherin supporters, or whatever I came up with last night. We're supposed to be loyal and brave to each other, not segregated."

Harry actually wants to cry. "You gave up all of them, Draco?" he asks in a whisper. "Merlin, that's not okay! You can't just go back to Gryffindor Tower every night and study by yourself and do homework by yourself and go up to bed before everybody else! That's why you slept terribly, isn't it? Because you were sad about what you did... Drake, no!"

"'Ry, please stop," Draco says, pushing his fingers through Harry's hair. "You should have seen Lavender. First she called me a big, fact, stupid blond. Then I said something about 'get out of here you know you'll hate being friends with Slytherin's' and she said 'yeah I know I will but I'm glad you're doing it.' And then she said to get to know my dad's side of the world a bit too, and that she loved me. And before she said I love you she kissed me on the cheek. I just nodded blankly at her, and then she repeated, 'Get to know your father,' before getting up and leaving me. I didn't...it was...weird.'

"She told you she loved you?" Harry asks, not even trying to keep the jealously out of his voice. "And kissed you on the cheek?"

"It wasn't like that," Draco says, shaking his head. "Like a friendship thing. I could tell that she's well aware that you're the only one that I want right now, don't worry."

"I'm not worrying," Harry says in a perfectly believable sounding lie.

Draco rolls his eyes heavenward. "Liar," he says. "But whatever. I won't be talking to her anymore, so there will be no more kisses or proclamations of her love for me. Anyway, what's your favorite colour?"

"Brown," Harry says right away.

Draco first blinks at him, then cocks and eyebrow, and then squints his eyes at Harry like he's looking for the part of Harry that's causing him to be all screwy.

"Brown?" Draco asks.

"Brown," Harry repeats.

"Uh...why?"

Harry shrugs. "Why not?"

"Seriously? That's why?"

"I don't know, I just do. It's a very neglected colour, so I gave it some love."

"You're a _Slytherin_. You _laugh_ at others neglectance."

"But it's a _colour_. Colours deserve to be loved."

"You're weird."

"And you're a Gryffindor. Now help me change into these clothes."

Draco grins. "If you insist." He twists around until he's got Harry pushes back onto the bed. "Pants first, I suppose..." he says, tracing his finger down one of Harry's legs.

"Not to ruin the moment or anything," Harry says, "but I'm pretty sure my shoes have to go first."

"Oh. Yeah. I guess you're right."

As much as Harry wanted it to be kind of like a "stripping game" sort of thing, Draco ends up just helping Harry undress and redress almost casually—a lot like when Draco changed back in the Gryffindor tower. Although there was a lot of kissing (but just on each other's faces), and Draco did insist on fondling Harry until he was raging hard. But now he's back in clothes and his cock is neglected in his pants.

"Let's go to the kitchens for food," Harry says. "I am getting a little hungry now."

As soon as the words leave Harry's mouth, Draco gives the most terrified, devastated gasp Harry has ever heard in his life.

"Oh my gods, Draco, what's wrong?" Harry asks, leaning forward in case he needs to quick grab hold of his blond.

For a second he's just shaking his head back and forth, but then another gasp breaks out of his throat: "Grape pudding! I never got any last night!"

Harry bursts into loud guffaws. "Then quick—quick!—to the kitchen to get some!"

They both scramble up and off the bed and run to the door, but when Draco almost trips on the stairs they slow to a walk and take each other's hands, the Glimmer Bag colour list back in Draco's pocket and the actual Bag slung over his shoulder.

When they exit the Slytherin common room, Draco says, "Can we skip?"

Harry turns and blinks at him, wondering how he can actually ask that question seriously. "Slytherin's do not skip."

"But Gryffindor's do, so their boyfriends should too."

"No."

Draco frowns. "Why not?"

"Because it's childish."

"'Ry, please, you're dating a childish _person_. You're going to have to do some childish _things_."

"Not if I can help it."

Draco throws his arms around Harry's neck. "Pleeeaase?"

Harry wraps his arms around Draco's waist and repeats, "No."

Draco bats his eyelashes. "Please? I'll be your best friend?" He kisses Harry's nose.

Harry pushes him against the wall until their bodies are so crushed together they're nearly one. "No."

"Just this once?" Draco pleads, kissing Harry lightly on the lips.

"Hmm..." Harry kisses him back harder. "Just once?"

Draco nods. "Just this once." He kisses him just long enough to slide his tongue into his mouth and then pull it back out.

And when he pulls away, Harry's looking up at him with a seductive smile, and all he says is, "No."

"ARGH!" Draco screeches, pushing a laughing Harry away from him. "You're evil," Draco says, crossing his arms.

"Okay, I'm sorry," Harry says, wiping a tear from his eye, not exactly sorry at all. But he has a pretty good idea Draco will like what else he's thinking better than skipping... "No, I will not skip with you, but I'll do something better. How's that sound?"

"No act of sexual favors will make me forgive you," Draco says with narrowed eyes, "But feel free to use them."

Harry rolls his eyes. "Thanks for your permission, but that's not what I was going to say."

Draco softens, his eyes un-narrowing and arms uncrossing. "What were you going to say, then?"

Now Harry crosses _his_ arms. "I have half a mind not to tell you."

"Uh, mind if I converse with the other half then?

Harry un-softens with a snort, and then says, "I was going to give you a piggyback ride."

Harry was planning on smiling warmly at the Gryffindor boy, but doesn't have time to, because Draco is instantly launching forward and crashing into Harry, his arms wrapping around his waist and his feet propelling them back against the opposite wall. His mouth crashes down against Harry's, merciless in its love and need.

Harry is blinking at Draco when he pulls away in a baffled expression, and Draco says with a warm smile, "I love you."

"Does this mean I'm forgiven?" Harry asks with an arched eyebrow.

Draco nods.

Harry smiles. "I'm going to remember this. You'll do anything for a piggyback ride."

"Well yeah. Who wouldn't?"

"Draco, I think the appropriate wording is who _would_."

"Good gods, 'Ry," Draco says, taking a step back from Harry. "Would you stop ruining the moment?"

"No. Do you want on my back or not?"

"Do I like grape pudding? Yes. Turn around."

"You get to hold our Bag then."

"And I'm not already?"

"True." Harry turns around and bends his knees slightly. "Ready when you are."

As soon as the words leave his mouth, a weight is added to his back. But it's hardly any weight at all. Draco's weight is like a girls'.

"Merlin, Drake," Harry says as he hitches the blonds legs around his waist and folds his arms/hands beneath his arse. "You weigh as much as Ginny does. She's one hundred and ten, _maybe_."

"And you've held her before?" Draco asks stiffly. Harry wishes he could see his face, but he can't in this position.

"Yeah, because she was my friend," Harry says as normal as he can (which is completely normal). "I've never given her a piggyback ride, though. In my second year, when I saved her from Tom, I carried her to get her out of the way of the Basilisk. Funny how Tom still wanted her dead when she was a Slytherin...must have been her family. I suppose I'd want most of them dead as well."

"Hey, I have an idea," Draco says. "Let's talk about something else."

So Harry quickly changes the subject: "I wonder how gay we look right now. Two blokes participating in a piggyback ride, holding a lilac and turquoise satchel, and wearing gold Ugg's."

To his extreme thankfulness, Draco laughs. "Take us to the kitchen to get food, will you? We'll get one of the house elves to bring in a full length mirror."

"You know," Harry says, starting off to the kitchen, "for a Gryffindor, you sure do support the usage of house elves."

"You do realize that the entire Weasley clan does too, right?"

"I've never really thought about it."

"Well, now you know.

"Because I wanted to know so badly."

"I know you did."

When they come to the portrait that guards the kitchen, Draco reaches out and tickles the pair until it swings open and almost knocks them over.

"Gives you memories, eh, Drake?" Harry says with a grin, setting the blond down so they don't die by falling over the portrait hole in their piggybacked position.

"Yeah, memories," Draco grumbles, crawling in first. "Lovely memories."

The moment they get inside, a group of house elves swarm them, asking them what they need and if they'd like to try something and how they're doing and why Harry looks like he's dressed for a hike through the Forbidden Forest. Harry doesn't know who any of the elves are, so he just ignores them and wades over to Draco, who's telling them all that he'd like some food for a picnic ("AND MAKE SURE THERE'S GRAPE PUDDING.") and no thank you they don't want to try anything and that they're doing fine enough and that Harry just gets cold very easily.

"Here I am with the colour lilac," Draco says when Harry gets to him, "and I'm ordering house elves around like mad. I should be banned from existence."

"I disagree," Harry says, taking a basket full of food the elves are shoving into his hands. "And I would say more, but the more pressing sentence is wow, these little guys are fast." He opens one of the flaps. "And look, grape pudding! They love you. Did you ever ask for that mirror?"

As if on cue, a bundle of elves pop into the kitchen, a full-length mirror spread carefully out between them.

"I did indeed," Draco says with a grin, and then he takes Harry's hand and pulls him over to where the elves are propping up the reflective glass.

Harry takes the Glimmer Bag from Draco and pushes their basket of food inside; it takes a bit of work, but it all works out. When he looks up from his finishes project, Draco is posed precariously in front of the large mirror: one foot is lifted off the ground with a house elf hanging from his ankle, and both his arms are spread out with two elves on each hanging from his elbows and his wrists.

"'Ry!" he says, smiling at him through the mirror. "Watch!"

And suddenly Draco swings both his arms up, and the four elves arch into the air and re-land on the opposite arms they were on. And at the same time as that, he lifts his leg up so that his foot is parallel with his head (_Flexible_, Harry thinks. _That will come in handy._) and the elf on that flies into the air and comes down with a headstand on Draco's head.

"Ta-duh!" Draco and the five elves say together.

Harry just wants to burst into guffaws, but he composes himself enough that he just claps and laughs normally. "Brilliant!" he says. "Just like circus performers!"

Draco blinks at him. "Like what?"

_Oh, honestly, who doesn't know about the circus? Harry thinks, giving a mental eye roll._ "Erm, never mind. Come get on my back so we can see what we look like."

"That means you guys," Draco says to the elves. "We can perfect this later."

"Yes, master Draco!" they all squeak, crawling and jumping off of him.

"Wait! Hugs!" He kneels down and the five elves join in a group hug before finally dispersing.

"Drake," Harry says, walking over to stand beside Draco and the mirror, "you're too much of a lilac for you own good."

Draco stands back up and takes the Glimmer Bag from Harry, swinging it over his shoulder again, and says, "And I have no regrets in the matter. Turn around."

Harry does, and he watches him jump on through the mirror, and then he sees how they really look. They both start laughing so hard that Draco falls off of Harry and onto his back, and before Draco is done laughing, Harry leans down and presses a kiss to Draco's lips.

"I love you, Drake," he whispers. "Let's go find a tree before anybody else sees us."

"I love you too, 'Ry. Let's."

* * *

References: 1. So. Glimmer Bags. By the next chapter we're going to assume that both Harry and Draco have read and know what all of the colours mean. And I'm not going to explain them every time they're brought up. Which meaaans...if you want to know what they mean (because I definitely made a whole key up because I got _way_ too into this), go up to that little chapter changer tab-come-down thingy and go to _End Author's Notes Part I_. That way you'll know what they say and why they say it :)


	15. Year 6, Part V

**Year Six, Part V: Knickers in a Twist**

Beginning chapter A/N's: This chapter is dedicated to Snape, because he's pretty OOC in this chapter…and most of the rest.

* * *

_About when Harry and Draco are exiting the kitchens…_

"You're joking," Mill says, looking blankly at Neville through their level height. "You've got to be."

"What, you have a more pressing relationship to get to?"

"No! I don't like anybody. I'm the abnormal girl. But I—I just—_why_?"

"I told you that I won't explain it until you agree. Will you, or will you not, pretend to be my girlfriend until you find somebody you actually like—or for at least four months if you don't find anybody."

"And this is in return for every single last little bit of knowledge about you and Harry, _and_ for Harry's relationship with Draco?"

"And some George and Fred stuff," Neville says with a nod.

Mill chews on the inside of her cheek, and Neville continues to blink blankly at her. He's not backing down from this. He has to make Harry think that he's over him. Well, maybe not, but he does have to convince him that something just clicked when he saw Mill. That's more believable than being completely over Harry, anyway.

"How long do I have to think about it?" Mill asks.

"Five minutes," Neville says without missing a beat.

"Wow, you're not Slytherin or anything."

He just smirks at her.

About three minutes later, Mill stops thinking: "Doin' it!"

Neville snorts. "Really?"

"Yeah, and don't you dare back out of it now that I've said yes."

"It's not that. I just don't want you to think that _you_ can back out of it."

She shrugs. "Too much work to suffer your wrath."

"You'd suffer George's, too. Now listen up, we gotta think of how I asked you out, because people will ask.

"How about right now?" Mill asks. "You pulled me out here and asked me if we could have what Harry and Draco have."

Neville only just hides a flinch. "Yeah, that's simple enough."

"Have you had your first kiss yet?" Mill suddenly asks.

"What?"

"Your first kiss? Cause if you haven't, I don't know if you want it to be _me_."

"Oh, no, I've had mine already."

"Who?"

"Harry."

She ogles at him. "Wait, when?"

"Before he was going out with Draco. Who was yours?"

She snorts. "Uh, it was my third year. And you wouldn't believe who it was."

"No, you're definitely telling me."

She sighs. "Cedric Diggory."

Neville doesn't know whether to laugh or stare, so he ends up having a coughing fit. "Really?" he asks.

She grins. "No, I was just kidding. Your face was priceless though. It was actually just Blaise."

Neville cocks an eyebrow. "Blaise? Really?"

She nods.

"Funny, I didn't think you were exactly his type. Anyway, breakfast is going to disappear in like, five minutes and everybody will pour out here. I for one would like a bit more food. We'll meet up later and tell everyone we're making out at the lake."

"Good plan."

They only just grasp each other's hands before somebody yells their names.

_**OoOoOoO**_

"Neville!" Harry exclaims at the same time that Draco yells, "Millicent!"

They both whip around to face them, their hands flying apart—and then quickly grasping each other's again.

"Hey Harry," they both say, and Millicent adds, "Hiyuh, Draco!"

Neville looks over at her. They're nearly the exact same height. "Hiyuh?" he asks.

She shrugs. "Hi just seems too bland for him. He's more fluffy bunnies and sparkly rainbows."

Draco sputters a protest, but Harry inwardly grins and agrees.

"By the way, Dray," Millicent says, "Nice satchel. And those shoes look great on you, even though I hate the colour."

"Oh, thanks!" Draco gushes. "I got the satchel over the summer, but the shoes I got…" He trails off. "_What_ did you just call me?"

"Malfoy," Millicent says instantly. "I called you Malfoy."

Harry bursts into laughter, Neville chuckles lightly, and Draco glares and says, "Call me that again and you'll _die_."

"I don't think so," Neville says, suddenly all protective. "Not _my_ girlfriend, you don't."

Harry's mind explodes, and both he and Draco go dead silent. Words keep zipping through his head, but not full sentences. _Girlfriend. Boyfriend. Dating. Hands. Protection. Betrayal._

No, that last one doesn't belong. It isn't betrayal. Why had he thought _that_? Neville could do whatever he wanted. But…he had just told Harry it was only him. He didn't feel betrayed. He felt confused.

"Wow, Neville!" Draco says with a smile before Harry can speak. "That's great! How'd it happen?"

Harry turns and gapes and Draco, but then he remembers that he hasn't told Draco about him and Neville, so he doesn't know how _impossible_ this really is.

"Kind of like love at first sight, really," Millicent says. "Something about sixth year must've changed something in us, and here we are now. He pulled me out here and asked me to date him after you both left. Cool, huh?"

Draco nods enthusiastically, but Harry just…can't.

"But, Neville," he says. "I thought you said—"

"No," Neville says, cutting him off. "Why did you think I'm okay with all of this? Because I found somebody." Neville doesn't say it, but Harry tacks on an _else_ to the end of the sentence inside of his head.

"But I—"

He holds up a hand, and Harry stops. Neville's eyes dart to Draco, and then back to Harry. "Have you told him?"

Harry wishes he hadn't asked. Now Draco would know he had _more_ secrets. "No," he says simply.

"Good. Keep it that way. I'll see you at lunch, Harry." He and Millicent start to head back into the Great Hall. He starts to head back into the Great Hall, and Harry hears Neville curse under his breath that all of the food is already gone. But he still doesn't turn back to them.

"Neville!" Harry says. "_That's_ your explanation? _That's_ all I get to know?"

"Don't ask me about it tonight, either," Neville says, turning back around to face him. "There's nothing wrong with moving on."

"I'm not saying there is, bit I'm just confu—"

"Stop it, Harry!" Neville all but shouts. "You get no explanation because you'll _forever_ be confused, no matter how thoroughly I explain it! Just sod off, will you?"

Harry's head explodes again. "Good _gods_, Neville!" he does shout. "_Fine_! Bloody well _fine_! I'm so sorry for trying to understand my friend!"

"Is that what we are, Harry?" Neville asks, now quiet. "Friends?"

_Betrayal._

"No," Harry says even quieter. "I thought we were a bit more than friends. But I guess I only have George for that."

Neville's eyes widen and go back to normal in the same second. "Whatever you say, Potter." And then he turns around and stomps into the Great Hall.

Tears burn the back of Harry's eyes, and he turns around and runs down the corridor without Draco by his side.

_Betrayal._

_**OoOoOoO**_

Draco doesn't realize that Harry's left him until Millicent points behind him.

"Oh hell," Draco says, looking after Harry. He turns back to Millicent, who Neville had walked into the Great Hall without, and says, "I think I'm a bit out of the loop."

"You are," she says. "And if Harry can't tell you, I can't tell you either."

"Can I ask you a question?"

"You probably shouldn't, because…well, don't you want to go find Harry?"

Draco shakes his head. "There's no need to find him. I know where he is. But my question: we're friends, right?"

She snorts. "Do you want to be?"

He nods. "I don't really want to be friends with any Slytherin's but you, as weird as that sounds. I said it as a joke to Harry, but you're actually quite…nice."

"Well, you're cool, too. But no, I will not tell you anything about the no-longer-friendship of Harry and Neville."

Draco smirks. "I wasn't actually getting to that, but sure. See you at lunch then?"

She nods, and then they head their separate ways. A few minutes later, Draco is standing in front of his favorite abandoned classroom. He senses so many locking charms on it that he's not even going to attempt to get it open.

He knocks. "Harry? Harry, its Drake. The fluffy, sparkly rainbow bunny—I _know_ you thought that was funny. Please take off the locking charms and let me in."

The knob of the door twitches, and then the door opens. Draco walks in and closes it behind him, and the charms relock the door.

He looks first at the couch, but when it's empty he finds Harry sitting in a corner with his knees pulled up to his chest, dried tears on his cheeks. "I'm not angry," he says instantly. "Really, this is great. Neville didn't betray anybody…that's not even the right word."

"Harry, stop thinking," Draco says, kneeling down beside the Slytherin.

Harry looks up at him, biting his bottom lip. "Did he betray me, Drake? Did he leave me?"

"No and no," Draco says. "He's just taking a little break. It will all be better soon. Now what did I tell you about thinking?"

"Stop it?"

"Exactly. Come here."

Harry twists around so that his knees are out of his way, his arms are around Draco's waist, and his face is buried in his chest.

"Tonight we'll go to bed early, alright? I'll walk you to your room and you'll be asleep before he comes in. Sound good?"

"Yeah," Harry whispers. "Thank you, Drake."

"You're welcome, 'Ry."

"Can we go find a tree now?"

"Yeah. Let's go."

They leave the room hand-in-hand, the Glimmer Bag slung over Draco's shoulder.

_**OoOoOoO**_

_Later that evening…_

Neville and Mill had in fact gone down to the lake, but contrary to what they knew people believed, they were not making out.

Neville had told her everything.

He told her about when he first realized he liked boys (watching a Macbeth play, but he had never really put his finger on why that was such a life changing event), and when he first had a crush on Harry (second year, contrary to her guess of the "moment their eyes met"), and when he had finally fallen in love with the boy (fourth year, when he and Dobby the house elf had helped him get gillyweed for the second task of the Triwizard Tournament).

He had told her how he felt at the end of fifth year when he found out that Harry had been gay _all this time_ and that them being together might have actually worked out—apart of course from the person he hated second most in the world right now, Draco Malfoy, even if it wasn't necessarily his fault at all. (The person he hated the _most_ was Bellatrix Lestrange—who was related to Malfoy anyway, so it just added to his hatred. He hadn't mentioned that last part to Mill, though.)

He told her about George's Hidden Tongues spell and how because of it George has been trying to help him get Harry for years now, with obviously fruitless results. He told her about how George and Harry had been a (what Harry thought secret, because George with his Hidden Tongues knew pretty much everybody knew) "thing" that involved no sex and just pent up longing for other men. He told her that he knew about it even before George had told him because in third year, Harry had a bit of an underage drinking problem, and he had told Neville himself and just didn't remember it. Of course George knew that Neville knew because of the Hidden Tongues again, but he couldn't say that because _Neville_ didn't know about the Hidden Tongues in the _first _place.

And right about then he had thrown his favorite colour (gray-blue; the colour of the sky on a partly cloudy day) in just to throw her off a bit.

And he told her that he was doing this with her not _only _because he wanted Harry to stop feeling bad for him and stop looking on him with near _pity_, but because he wanted to believe _himself_ when he said that he liked her, wanted to be with her this way. He wanted to get Harry out of his head and fall in love with somebody else, and he's hoping that someway—somehow—that happens between him and her. He told her that if he liked anybody besides Harry it would be her because they were so alike. Forget opposites attract and Harry's theory about how no Slytherin ever likes another Slytherin. That was all bullshit anyway; he could name tons of people with two Slytherin parents.

After that last thing he had told her, she sort of just gaped at him before finally saying, "If there weren't any if's in that I would probably feel flattered."

"But you're not," he had said. "I didn't really expect you to be."

And now they're just sitting there, by the lake, leaning up against the trunk of a tree. They haven't talked for about ten minutes now.

But just as rules, silence is made to be broken.

"You do realize," Mill says, "that Draco and I are in fact friends?"

Neville looks over at her blankly. His face doesn't show that he does not approve.

"Back when we ran into them at breakfast," Mill continues, "Draco asked me if we were friends. I said yes, but also that that doesn't mean I'll tell him a stitch of information about this."

Despite himself, Neville snorts. "Nice of you to pretend you knew what was going on at the time."

"Well, I knew I was going to learn later today, so you know."

"We need to lay down some rules," Neville says, changing the subject.

"What do you mean?" Mill asks. "I tell no one we're faking it, you tell me everything you know about…certain people."

"No, I mean the relationship. Like PDA and whatnot."

"Oh! Right. Well, about the PDA…we'll start slow, I guess. We'll hold hands and hug each other goodbye, and sooner or later we'll have to actually kiss or people will make fun of us."

"Yeah, and Harry's already suspicious of us enough. So it will have to be sooner, really."

"Yeah…uh…anything else?"

"Not in my mind right now, no. That was all I really wanted to cover."

"Back to the castle, then? We can go do our homework together."

"Yeah, let's go."

They walk slowly through the evening air; close enough that they can just have their hands pushed into their pockets instead of actually hold the others. Because as much as Neville wants to be over Harry, he's afraid, because Harry's all he's ever known in this way.

But he really does think his plan is brilliant.

_**OoOoOoO**_

_A few days more than a month and a half later…_

Time passes, like everything, for Harry and Draco and everybody else. Some days are swift, some are slow, some are filled with hatred and others not any at all. Harry learns that the professors "against" him and Draco are McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout, Pince, Pomfrey, and Hagrid—and Filch doesn't like it either, but he's not a professor. It's not that they're against gays (because they all know that Dumbledore is and they love him more than the world), or that they're against House unity, but that its Harry and Draco in general. They're just not used to the two boys getting along, especially as well as this. Flitwick passes out a lot, Greg told Harry that he had overheard Sprout muttering to herself about all of the new ways she had come up with to deal with Harry and Draco's fights and now it was only a waste of parchment, Harry caught Pince reading a book about homosexuals and then nearly screaming in her own library when she realized he was watching her read it, and McGonagall and Hagrid can pull themselves together enough to pretend that they're used to it whenever Harry and/or Draco are around. And Filch has hated both of them from the start.

And the professor's okay with it (if not _so_ okay with it that it's nearly suffocating) is Dumbledore, Slughorn, Sinistra, Binns, Trelawney, and Snape. Dumbledore is obvious, Slughorn (though he didn't really know either of the boys to begin with) always seems confused but goes with it anyway, Sinistra is kind of like Lavender in which she just doesn't seem to care, Binns doesn't care about anything anyway, and Trelawney and Snape? Well, Trelawney is the one so okay with it that it's nearly suffocating, always asking how they (Harry and Draco) are doing and saying she just _knew_ that it would happen because she had foretold it. Harry knew Trelawney was a terrible diviner, but the thing is, whenever she says something about it around other professors they don't say to "shut up no you haven't said anything of the sort so stop saying you have", but they say something along the lines of "yeah, yeah, no need to rub it in we get it". So she really _had_ seen it coming. And Snape…well, Harry never noticed that he had never seen the man smile before. Yes, Snape _smiles_. But he does so much more than that. He makes jokes about Harry and Draco that are actually funny and kind of nice and maybe even sweet. He's stopped taking points from Gryffindor House because Draco let free _another_ creature they're learning the Dark Arts with. He actually attempts to help the two boys understand their homework. Snape had always been torn between being horrible or not to Harry because he hated Harry's father (for whatever reason, Harry doesn't know), but they're also fellow Slytherin's. And he had been the same with Draco because he was _friends_ with Draco's father, but on the offhand they're in _opposite_ Houses. But now he's treating both of them like his favorite students.

Harry remembers how Draco had leaned over and whisper to him after Snape's first joke: "That was _weird_. I mean, he treats me like this whenever nobody else is around because he's friends with my family, but his reaction on the first day made me think that he was going to make our lives hell!"

"We'll figure out what's wrong with him later," Harry had whispered in reply, though nearly two months later they still haven't gotten around to it.

But those are just the professors… The students are a lot worse. In public, like in the Great Hall or the one class they have together (Defense against the Dark Arts), Harry and Draco only share short pecks and hugs so they won't attract too much unwanted attention. When they're just around their "inner group of friends" (which is Greg, Hermione, Blaise and/or Millicent), like studying in a corner, they sit in each other's laps and share real kisses. (Harry _would _feel uncomfortable doing anything romantic in front of Neville, but since he's kissing Millicent it doesn't really matter.) They're never around Gryffindor's long enough to do anything "significant" anyway, Ginny hangs around her own year, and Harry and Draco tend to avoid and be avoided by Neville when together, but whenever Draco isn't around Harry and Neville hang out all the time. They hadn't actually forgiven each other, but they just sort of…drifted back together. It was a little awkward at times, but for the most part they were still good enough friends to talk about anything—anything_ but_ their relationships. And true to his word, Harry hasn't told Draco anything about him and Neville yet. Nor has he told him about the Hidden Tongues yet, come to think of it…

Of course, whenever they're alone, they usually end up on the floor or at least up against a wall. But the thing is, being alone is not something that happens as often as they'd like, thanks to people always looking for them for whatever reason. Cho Chang, a seventh year Ravenclaw, found them kissing in a corridor one time and promptly puked on her own shoes. Then she had blown up at Harry for going with Draco when _she _had been trying to get him since Cedric died, and her own mentioning of Cedric caused her to burst into tears and run off. (Only after Harry had punched a wall and broke his hand—which Madam Pomfrey had fixed with narrowed eyes—from his _own_ memories of Cedric did Draco tell him there was a bottle of liquor hidden in Chang's robes. Harry asked him how he had known it was there and Draco gave him a shrug and his famous "son of a Death Eater, it happens" response. Harry _was _going to mention how he thought it odd he didn't notice the bottle himself because he had good liquor hiding experience thanks to third year, but after the un-detailed answer he decided not to give details either.) Most of the other times people stumble upon them, they start ranting or laughing or congratulating or crying. The weirdest was _Peeves_, though. He found them one day in the empty arithmancy classroom, just kissing and touching lovingly instead of the hot and needy way they usually do things when alone. He cackled his normal Peeves laugh before swooping down next to them. "I knew it!" he had said. "We all knew it! All us poltergeists did, and the house elves too! You should have _seen_ the Bloody Baron when he found out that it was true! We're so happy for you! Soo happy!" And then he was gone, leaving Harry and Draco staring after him with dropped jaws and muddled brains.

And then there's the relationship of Neville and Millicent… They'd been a little distant at first, but now they kiss a lot more in public than Harry and Draco ever can/do. Harry wishes he could watch to see if they have any real feelings in the kisses, but he just can't. It makes him feel sick. And he can't ask Draco to do it because Harry would have to explain the whole "Neville thing". So he's left muttering to himself on his own.

Now, on a Monday afternoon, Harry is sitting between Greg and Draco, with Hermione beside Greg and Millicent beside Draco, and then Neville beside Millicent. Greg and Hermione are talking about old people robes, Neville is stuffing his face so he doesn't _have_ to talk (he's done that all these nearly two months, now), Blaise is arguing with a fifth year about which year is the hardest ("You haven't even _had_ my year!" Blaise protests. "You shouldn't even have a _say_ in this!"), and Draco is having a rather heated discussion with Millicent about how to properly send a muggle letter.

"I _swear_ they deliver them by cats instead of owls!" Draco says. "Stray cats our always _everywhere_ in muggle places!"

"No!" Millicent all but growls. "They have teleportation devices! Those boxes with red flags they all have? That's them!"

"Actually," Harry interjects, leaning in front of Draco, "you're both wrong."

"How, then?" they both ask with shimmering eyes full of glittering questions.

"Well, first you have to add a stamp—"

"A what?" Millicent asks, and Harry sees the same question just inside Draco's lips.

"It's a square of paper that's worth money."

"That's weird…"

"So is waving a stick and having fireworks shoot out the other end. Shut up and let me finish."

"Sorry."

"Right, so you stick the stamp in the corner of the envelope, and then you put it in the box with the red flag—but it _doesn't_ teleport anything. A man comes along and picks it up, drives it around a bit, and then delivers it through a metal slot in your door!"

Draco and Millicent blink at him, and Draco finally says, "That's surreal, and not exactly in a good way."

"We've been over this!" Harry snaps, leaning away from Draco. "Eat your lunch and forget it!"

They roll their eyes, but do.

There's a break after lunch, in which Harry and Draco leave Neville and Millicent to go hang out with Greg and Hermione to get some homework done. Once the break is over, though, Harry and Greg separate from Hermione (who's talking all the advanced, pointless classes) and Draco (who has classes at different times since he's a Gryffindor) to walk to their next class with Millicent, because Neville has all the advanced classes with Hermione. (Blaise, of course, is walking somewhere with his Ravenclaw girlfriend that has the next class with them. She's the one he was with on the first night at school, and her name is Silvi something. All Harry knows about her is that she's brunette, hates Cho Chang and her friends, and is from German decent.)

"So how's the relationship?" Millicent asks Harry on their way to their next class.

"It's splendid, 'Cent," Harry says, rolling his eyes. (He got the nickname from Draco, whose given every last person he regularly talks to a nickname from the last part of their name. He would call her Mill, like Neville does, but that's more his "girlfriend pet name" for her, so he doesn't. Anyway, Draco's name for Lavender is 'Ender, Hermione is 'Mione, Greg is 'Rory, and Neville is 'Ville—even though he doesn't actually talk to him.) Millicent had been asking nearly every day since the first breakfast that question Draco had replied "peanut butter" to, and it was really annoying Harry—of course, _she_ knows that, so she continues to do it. Draco, on the other hand, loves it, so whenever she asks him he really explains how "splendid" it all is.

But at Harry's reply Millicent just chuckles, and then turns to Greg to start up a conversation about paperweights.

_I have weird friends_, Harry thinks, walking into his class.

The classes at Hogwarts are confusing to an outsider. Each student has eight classes altogether, but you have four different ones each day, plus breakfast, lunch, and dinner. On Monday's, Wednesday's, and every other Friday Harry has first a free period, then divination (most people dropped that class, but he's actually quite good at it, so he kept it), ancient runes, and Defense against the Dark Arts, plus a break mushed into them. On Tuesday's, Thursday's, and the other Friday's he has transfiguration, History of Magic, potions, and herbology.

With Draco only having the last class with Harry, all of Draco's classes are, in the same order as Harry has his, History of Magic, herbology, transfiguration, Defense against the Dark Arts, Care of Magical Creatures (he was one of the only ones that decided to keep it, which confused Harry until he factored in the blonds Glimmer Bag colour), potions, astronomy, and then his own free period.

Harry's two classes pass slowly, like they always do, but it's finally time for him to go. He speeds ahead of Greg and Millicent to get there faster (he hopes they're used to being ditched by now) and ultimately see Draco faster. He ducks through throngs of people and through secret passageways to other corridors until he's at the Defense against the Dark Arts room, this year taught by Snape. When he finally gets into the room, Draco's already inside, because transfiguration is closest to the Defense against the Dark Arts room.

"Draco!" he says, smiling across the room at the blond.

Most of the other Gryffindor's in the room give grossed out looks, but he distinctly sees Lavender wink at him.

"Harry!" Draco says, his smile blinding the rooms' inhabitance.

Harry crosses the room to their regular table (the front once, closest to Snape's desk so they can tell jokes easier), where Draco has already set up his side of the table, and sets up his own stuff. Once he has they embrace in their normal _it's been at least an entire class period since I've seen you_ position: Draco's arms around Harry's neck, Harry's arms around Draco's waist, but neither of their faces close enough to have anybody tell them to stop being a serious public display of affection.

"How was transfiguration?" Harry asks warmly.

Draco shrugs. "The usual. Lovegood finally got put into my class permanently she's so good. She's the only Ravenclaw, since it's supposed to be Gryffindor's and Hufflepuff's only. She's going to pass those O.W.L.s with flying colours."

"Yeah, she's in Ravenclaw for a reason. What about herbology?"

Draco sighs. "Neville is really starting to get on my nerves. He just _has_ to do better than me in everything. How he got into an all Gryffindor/Ravenclaw class is beyond me. He should be in _your_ class."

"Yeah, it confuses me too, but Sprout's scared of us so I'd rather not ask."

"Speak of the devil," Draco mutters, looking over Harry's shoulder and then back in Harry's eyes. Harry's confused for a second, but when Draco suddenly says in a regular voice, "How was ancient runes?" he knows that Neville has just walked into the room.

"Oh, it was great!" Harry says. "I learned how to read a whole bunch of spells today. We already did colours, numbers, and single letters, so we're moving up a bit now! And I got to help Trelawney predict Greg's future in divination. Something about being inseparable from someone...or some_thing_...I don't remember."

"Someone/thing good or bad?"

"Oh, it wasn't necessarily good or bad. Just something that's there—"

Suddenly both boys are jostled apart.

"Heyuh, mates!" Millicent says with a smile. "How's the relationship?"

At the same time Harry says, "Great, until you came along and broke it up," Draco gushes, "Oh, we were just discussing our classes! You're boyfriend's a nightmare in herbology, by the way. And you're here just in time for my proposal to Harry!"

"Wait, what?" Harry says, looking away from Millicent and to Draco. "What proposal?"

"I nearly forgot about it," Draco continues, pulling Harry back into their position. "Mother said she wants me at the Manor for Halloween, and that I can bring somebody with me! She suggested Ron, but now that we're enemies and you and I are friends again, I'd like to bring you if you don't already have your own plans."

"I thought we didn't get out of school for Halloween..." Harry says.

"Halloween is on a Saturday this year," Millicent chimes in.

"Precisely!" Draco says, smiling at her. Then he looks back at Harry and says, 'Mother is just taking me out for the weekend. We'd leave on Friday after our classes are over and then come back Sunday afternoon, so we'd be gone for two nights. Two of my little cousins will be there, too, though... But to make up for that, we can..." He trails off, looking back over at Millicent.

"Oh," she says. "Private conversation time. Neville's giving me the evil eye, anyway. Talk to you guys later." She winks before walking away to her...boyfriend. Merlin, Harry still can hardly say it to_ himself_, even. He just can't.

"What were you going to say?" Harry asks once Millicent is into another conversation.

Draco glances around the room, and then leans in until his mouth is beside Harry's ear. "I was going to say that, to make up for my cousins being there, we get to share a room, meaning we share a bed, and a shower, and _everything_."

The entirety of Harry's body heats up instantly.

Draco pulls his mouth away and looks Harry steadily in the eyes. "How's that sound?" he asks.

"Oh yeah," Harry says, nodding. "Brilliant idea. What about...uh...your mum?"

Draco opens his mouth to answer, but at that moment Snape billows in, causing the room to go more silent than a muggle grave. So Draco shakes his head and mouths, "Later."

_**XxX**_

When later finally comes, Snape has set everybody up in groups of two, each group with a cage containing two Japanese pixies. They're white until its dark out, in which they glow in the dark. Students learned how to "take down" pixies back in second year, for the most part, but these are saved for sixth year because, not only do they tend to mimic vampires with their fangs, but they can posses you. Not for very long, and not like a demon or a ghost can, but more like the _legilimens_ spell. If they lock their little eyes with yours long enough, you go completely slack, and then they can do the exact same thing as that spell, and at the same time they transfer the memories of their last victim that they've "read" into your brain. No, you don't lose your old memories—you just better not let that Japanese pixie go before removing your memories from it unless you want the next of its victims to know the last embarrassing thing you did. The whole point of the lesson is to one, learn to guard your thoughts (occlumency) and two, learn to obliviate specific thoughts instead of just the last few minutes or hours or whatever.

Naturally, Harry and Draco are paired up together, and hardly actually working at all since Harry learned occlumency rather well when working with Snape in fifth year (not that he had applied it outside of the lessons; he wanted to try and anticipate Voldemort's next moves, though it didn't help very much at the end of fifth year…), and Draco had learned it to near perfection in the summer of his fourth year with his mother (and he did _not_ want to anticipate Voldemort's next moves, not to mention he usually didn't need to since the monster had been around Draco's Manor since he had returned.). Draco was also a wiz at obliviating thoughts; his father had taught him under the watchful eye of Peter Pettigrew also in the summer of fourth year.

Snape had been hanging around their table a lot, and Harry thought the man was going to have an aneurysm keeping his mouth shut about asking about their relationship like Millicent, but he had just left to yell at Lavender for knocking her cage onto the ground and nearly letting the pixies out that she and Parvati were sharing.

Of course, only Harry (and probably Draco too, actually) had noticed her wink across the room at them.

"Good ole 'Ender," Draco whispers while he absentmindedly plays with Harry's hair since Harry's laying his head on the table and its level with the blond's hand anyway. "Always there to distract, even though she's supposed to hate me. It's hard to believe she knows me well enough to know when I don't want somebody around when I don't even know her middle name."

"Lily," Harry says instantly, but quietly. "Her middle name is Lily."

Draco blinks at Harry with a slightly disgruntled look. "How'd you know that?"

"Overheard it in the hall one year."

"Alright, but how'd you remember it?"

For some reason, Harry just doesn't want to say it, even to Draco. So instead he says, "Because it's pretty."

"Liar," Draco says warmly, lying his head down next to Harry's.

Harry sighs. "It was my mother's name."

The fingers in Harry's hair go very still for a second before beginning to stroke again. "Yeah," he says quietly. "I knew that. That's why I knew you were lying. My parents told me what it was when I visited my father in..." Draco trails off. "Hey, is your favorite colour still brown?"

Harry blinks at him, but knows that Draco probably doesn't want to talk about his father being in the worst prison in existence. "Could you have been any more random?"

"Don't question me; I'm trying to distract you. Remember what brown means in Glimmer Bag colour terms?"

Harry smiles warmly at his blond.

_Anybody else would ask about my parents_, he thinks. _But no, he's distracting me from it. I wish everybody would do that..._

Without looking around to see if anybody is watching, and without waiting for Draco's consent, he leans forward and presses his lips firmly to Draco's. Draco locks up for about a second before tightening his hand in Harry's hair and kissing him back. But then the protests come up, and Snape's voice rings through the room: "Honestly, students, it's just a kiss. There's no need to get your knickers in a twist."

Harry and Draco both snort and the same exact time (sending an awkward volley of spit at each other) and pull away from each other to stare wide-eyed at Snape.

"Pro_fessor_!" Draco exclaims at the same time that Harry says, "That was so out of _character_!"

"Hallway," Snape says, and it's in such a different voice (hard and cutting) than the one he just spoke in (light and happy) that he honestly can't tell if he's actually mad or just going to ask why they were making out in front of Japanese pixies. But as they follow the professor out of the room, Draco is smiling, so Harry then feels perfectly safe.

Once in the hall, Snape turns to them and says, "I have never, in my entire lifetime, said anything like that to anybody. You boys are bringing out the worst in me."

"Snape, honestly," Harry says. "That is going to ruin your reputation as an evil bastard."

"Yes, and kissing the son of a Death Eater is certainly helping your reputation of defeating the Dark Lord." And then he gives Harry a look that Harry knows means not to bring up his being a pretend Death Eater unless he wants instant death by other means than Avada Kedavra. _Does Draco not know that he's only pretending, or is he just self-conscious about it? _"How is today's lesson coming for you both?"

"The same as occlumency went," Harry says, rolling his eyes.

"And you already know a pair of Japanese pixies is nothing compared to mother," Draco says.

"Yes, your mother is...very good at that," Snape says darkly. "Many an embarrassing topic has been brought up thanks to that skill of hers. I understand you are going back to the Manor for Halloween?"

Draco nods. "_Cat Tower No. 7_."

Snape frowns. "It's been a while since you've had to use that. Are you bringing somebody with you?"

Draco nods.

And Harry stares at them, eyelids twitching, feeling very confused indeed.

"I feel a bit out of the loop," he says awkwardly.

"You keep secrets," Draco says, turning to him, "I keep secrets."

"Hey!" Harry says, frowning. "Who says I keep secrets?"

"The Neville thing?"

Harry sighs. "That's not my secret to keep, though. I would tell you, but it's not my thing to tell, so I can't."

"Fred and George said you have another one. Something about...hiding and mouths... I can't remember."

Harry sighs even deeper. The Hidden Tongues. Of course. "Yeah, there is that one. I'll tell you that the next chance we have."

"You can't tell me now?"

"If you hadn't noticed," Snape suddenly says, "_I_ happen to be here. So I do not believe it should be told, as much as your secrets interest me." Harry resists the urge to roll his eyes at Snape's sarcasm.

"I have an idea," Draco says, turning to the dark looking professor. "You know that 'Ry and I aren't learning anything today. How about we head down to the library and work on homework for our other classes?"

Snape blinks at Draco. "I am not supposed to allow students out during classes. Will you, honest to Merlin, go to and stay in the library until this period is over?"

Draco and Harry both nod.

Snape sighs—not the sigh you would hear from somebody sad; the kind of dignified sigh you would hear from Professor Dumbledore, or from Narcissa—and pinches the bridge of his nose. When he lets go he addresses Draco specifically: "Yes. Go ahead. Tell Madam Pince you have my permission. But before you go, gather your things and clean up your table."

"And before _you_ go," Harry says, stopping Snape from turning around to the presently closed door.

"Yes, Harry?" he says.

"_That_," Draco says, "is what we need to talk about. When have you _ever _called Harry by his first name?"

Snape blinks some more. "Whenever he makes our House proud. Such as winning Quidditch games or obtaining last minute points so that we win the House Cup."

"In short, you're being off this year, since there have not yet been any games and the House Cup is at the _end_ of the year."

Snape seems to think about this, and then he gives a dignified shrug.

"What we're asking, sir," Harry says, "Is why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you suddenly being, well, happy? And always nice to me?"

Snape mashes his lips into a hard line, but his eyes stay light. "It has come to my conclusion, Harry," he says at length, "that apart from one very specific thing, you are your fathers absolute opposite."

"And what's that specific thing, may I ask?"

"I don't know if you can. It includes"—he turns to Draco—"your father as well."

Draco giggles and Harry chuckles. "You know about that, too?" Draco asks. "He told me when mother and I saw him this summer, and I've already told Harry."

"Oh," Snape says, his mouth curving up at one end. "Yes, a lot of us knew about that when it was happening, and if we weren't all so serious lately we would probably make fun of him for it still. But that is not our topic, and I assume you would like me to finish my explanation?"

"Yes, professor," Harry says.

Snape nods, and then continues: "You are well aware that your father and I…" His lips curl. "Disliked each other. But not only are you in different Houses, you take things differently. When insulted, James would put a curse on the insulter, while you will just laugh and give out a sarcastic remark."

Harry shrugs. "Magic is too much work."

"Precisely! James used it at every possible chance, while you would rather…well…"

"Read a book?" Draco suggests.

"No," Harry says, "I've only ready three whole books in my lifetime. I'd rather just sit."

"Yes!" Snape says. "You'd rather sit. James did not sit. He was always stealing my potions book or running after girls—once his third year began, anyway. And speaking of my potions book…" Snape reaches into his bat-like cloak and pulls out a very old and worn looking textbook.

Harry chuckles. "That reminds me of Pajama Sam."

"Pardon?" Draco says at the same time Snape says, "Come again?"

"Never mind," Harry says. "What about your potions book, professor?"

"Yes, my book. I hear from Horace—"

"Who?"

"Slughorn."

"Ah."

"Yes, well, Horace tells me that you're a little rusty in your potions work. I'd like you to have this. It was my book in my own sixth year, and I've written notes all over it that I think will come in handy. Although you may ignore the words written in the front."

"Which are?" Harry asks, taking the book and putting it into the bag that he and Draco aren't sharing. They can't both carry it around at once, thanks to their having completely different classes.

"_This book is the property of the Half-Blood Prince_."

Harry and Draco snort. "Little conceited there, aren't you, professor?" Draco asks.

"I must admit, Draco," Snape says, eyeing Draco's Bag (the Glimmer Bag) and completely ignoring Draco's sentence. "You have quite the colour taste."

Harry and Draco exchange grins before Draco says, "Have you ever heard of Glimmer Bags, professor?"

"Oh," Snape says. "Yes, I have one of my own. It was a gift from…a friend."

"Ooh, what's your colour?" Draco gushes just before Harry can question _his friend_ a little further.

"Evergreen green," he says. "It means that I would rather be alone than with people. That I'm reserved in my feelings."

"Oh, I've seen that," Harry says, remembering said satchel his first day of Defense against the Dark Arts.

"Yes, I do not carry it around with me often, since there's usually no need to bring my things anywhere."

"Sir, I have another question…" Harry says, changing the subject.

"Merlin, are we going to be talking for the rest of the lesson? My students are probably running rampant inside of my classroom."

"And if they are you can beat them all."

"Brilliant idea. What is your question?"

"Well, Drake and I know why you're not ruining my life anymore, but what about him? I mean, he is a Gryffindor, it is pretty disgusting." He winks at Draco, and his blond just rolls his eyes heavenward and smiles.

"Other than the fact that they are revolting, yes," Snape says, "Draco is the son of two of my very good friends—I do admit Lucius is a Death Eater, but…politics…do not change my views on friendship—and I believe that he has enough on his mind already than stressing over dropping cages like Miss Brown."

Harry and Draco exchange another grin before Draco says, "Thank you, professor. Other than the fact that I was instead stressing over your diabolical plan of niceness it was a wonderful idea."

Snape smiles (which is still creepy and very diabolical to Harry). "Yes, well, I did my best. Anything else you'd like to tell me?"

"Stop it," Harry says. "Stop being so publically nice to us. You can do it under your breath, or when it's just us, but unless you want everybody to stop fearing you…well, you get it."

Snape gives another dignified sigh. "You're right, I know. I just haven't had this much fun in…well, a long time. Did you see Miss Patil's face when I said that bit about twisting knick—oh, no, I suppose you were too busy kissing. Never mind." And with that, he yanks open the door to the classroom, a dark and lethal look plastered onto his face.

* * *

References: 1. Japanese pixies don't actually exist. I mean, sure, I could have accidentally stolen the name and something called a Japanese pixie really does exist (too lazy to look it up), but I've taken the liberty of completely changing what it is if that's the case. So if they seem completely implausible, there's a reason: _I'm_ completely implausible, therefore so are my creations, because why not?

2. If you don't know what Pajama Sam is, you should figure it out. But because I know it's a lot of work, tough, it's a video game kind of thing for 5 to 8 year olds. I know I'm 16, but I still play it all the time. It's one of the best things ever :P

/

A/N: Draco's nickname for Hermione, 'Mione is pronounced "my-knee"—basically just how the end of her name sounds. Just in case you were trying to pronounce it "my-one" or "my-own". Though I'm not entirely sure why you would, considering that it was used in both the books and the movies…


	16. Year 6, Part VI

**Year Six, Part VI: HEY THERE, I'm Doing It.**

Beginning chapter A/N's: This chapter is dedicated to the X-Men, and you'll learn why in the References at the end of the chapter!

* * *

Once in the library, Draco and Harry choose the table farthest from the door. And then Harry explains all about the Hidden Tongues (_Hiding mouths, Draco, you idiot_, Draco thinks to himself), and suddenly everything makes complete sense.

How George had known exactly what had happened between him and Harry at the lake last year. How Fred just _knew_ without anybody physically telling him that Draco's _incarcerous_ on Harry would break faster. How Fred and George always only exchange looks instead of any words. That "secret communication" Fred and George had that George refused to explain to Draco when they showed up at Borgin's, and there as well when Fred said that he "doesn't know Draco as well as George knows Harry so he couldn't see everything".

"And you haven't told me this already _why_?" Draco asks when Harry's done explaining, honestly a bit irked with his boyfriend.

Harry sighs. "I don't know, I just didn't want to have to explain it all. You're not mad at them, are you?"

"Fred and George? No. You though? Maybe a bit."

Harry averts his eyes and chews on the inside of his cheek. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. Snape's right when he says that you already have enough on your mind…"

"But I'm not going to be thinking about it anymore!" Draco protests. "You told me, and now things have been _explained_, not confused. If you had just told me right away I probably would have even forgotten about it by now."

"Yeah, I know," Harry says, looking back over at him, "but I didn't want to bring it up! There was never really a time that it just fit into conversation. Besides, the only person at school right now that knows about it is Neville, and we hardly ever have any time to just be alone, so I couldn't exactly just say, 'Oh, Draco, that reminds me, have you ever heard of the secret spell that George made called the Hidden Tongues?' Honestly, I don't think that would go very well."

"That didn't even take ten minutes. We've had plenty of time."

"No, because we've been making out at all those times."

"You couldn't have said, 'Wait, I have light to shed upon a situation!'?"

"No!" Harry shouts, and he quickly shuts his mouth and looks around to make sure that Madam Pince isn't glaring at him from behind a bookshelf. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? I've told you now, and we can't do anything about going back and changing if I've told you or not. We don't have a Time Turner and there aren't any spells that will bring us back."

Draco gives an aggravated sigh. "_Fine_." He leans back in his chair, folds his arms, and looks away from Harry.

"Draco…" Harry says in a pleading whisper. "I'm _sorry_. Honestly, it just slipped my mind most of the time. Would you think about _hiding mouths _if _your_ boyfriend had his tongue down your throat?"

Draco sighs inwardly, but doesn't let anything show on the outside. _He's got a point_, he thinks. _But still._

"I'll make it up to you," Harry says, pulling his legs up to crisscross them on the chair and leaning in towards Draco. "I'll go with you to your Manor for Halloween."

Draco looks over at Harry only with his eyes, and he knows exactly what Harry's thinking by one look in the Slytherin's eyes. "You would have come anyway," Draco says, rolling his own eyes.

"Well…yeah…um…I'll let you have me first."

"Merlin, Harry, we agreed I was topping first on the first day of _school_."

"I was hoping you would have forgotten…"

Draco cocks an eyebrow. "Forget about losing my virginity? Yeah right. Not all Gryffindor's are that thick."

Harry presses his lips into a line and blinks at Draco a lot. And then, he gives a very long sigh. "I'll skip with you," he says.

Draco snaps out of his hardened position instantly, ending up on the very edge of his seat with his nose just barely touching Harry's.

"I have your word on that?" Draco asks. "If I forgive you, you'll skip with me?"

"As soon as this class is over, when the corridors are as full as they can be, with everybody watching, will skip out of the library holding hands and laughing about…I don't know, getting our navels pierced or something."

Draco feels his face heat up, and he quickly pulls away from Harry.

_No, he can't know_, Draco thinks, looking Harry straight in the eyes. _Even Fred couldn't know that, and he's got the Hidden Tongues on me. There's no way he figured it out. No, no, no._

"Uh, Drake?" Harry asks, tilting his head in confusion. "Are you okay?"

Draco nods a bit too quickly. "Yeah, I'm great," he says, though it comes out more like a croak. He clears his throat. "I mean, yeah, I'm fine, sorry. That's a brilliant idea. Did you ever tell me if your favorite colour is still brown?"

Harry blinks at him. "You're an even bigger liar than I am. What did I say? Was it something about…" He trails off. "Uh, pierced navels? Was that it?"

Draco shakes his head no a bit too fast again. "No, it was the skipping. You didn't, erm, say that you promised you would do it yet. Do you promise?"

"Yeah, I promise I will. And you promise to forgive me?"

"No, I do forgive you, and I'll never hold it against you unless you break your promise."

Harry nods. "Deal. Do we have to shake on it or…?"

Draco manages to force a short laugh. "One does not shake ones boyfriends hand in such situation. We just take each other's words on it."

"Alright, sounds good. Now stop lying to me. Your face was brighter than the Weasley family's hair. That wouldn't have happened if I hadn't promised something yet. More like a frown…"

Draco feels his face heat up again.

"Dammit!" he says, covering his face with the sleeves of his robe. "My face was never red!" he says into the cloth. "Or at least not for that reason. You're just so beautiful I get all hot around you."

"Thanks, but you're still lying, and it's seriously getting on my nerves. Obviously you don't want to tell me, but just _say_ that. Don't lie to me about it. I'm not as thick as the average Gryffindor."

Draco sighs and pulls his arms away from his face. "Fine then. I don't want to tell you."

"Alright, don't then. And by the way, your blush is amazing. It covers your entire face."

Draco groans. "I can't tell if you're trying to guilt trip me or if you're just making fun of me."

Harry grins. "Both."

Draco rolls his eyes, but he's not about to tell Harry his deepest, darkest, best kept secret, no matter how much he loves him. So instead he looks down at his watch.

"Three more minutes until it's time to go skipping," he says, looking up at Harry with a grin.

Harry groans, and Draco can tell that it's both because he has to actual skip and because Draco chose not to tell Harry what he was lying about.

The minutes pass in silence. Draco checks his watch a lot, and Harry just watches him with a look Draco can't read.

But eventually the three minutes are up.

Draco jumps to a standing position. "Ready?"

"Yeah right," Harry says, getting to his feet a lot slower. "I'll never be ready."

They sling their bags over their shoulders and walk to the doors of the library. It takes about a minute for the halls to be filled, and Harry is muttering under his breath about how he can't believe he's actually doing this.

"Aaand…go!" Draco says, grabbing Harry's hand and launching into the corridor.

It takes Harry a couple of tries, but soon they're skipping like fourth years through the halls and soaking in all of the creepy looks like sponges.

And then suddenly Harry bursts into the Hogwarts School anthem. Draco gapes at him for a moment before joining in, and the next thing he knows…people are joining them. All sorts of people, from all of the four Houses.

When their throng gets to the Great Hall, Draco gets a good look at the group. There are at least four people from each House bent over laughing or starting to sing different songs. Even Harry is laughing, spinning Draco in circles in the middle of the Great Hall, in the middle of the crowd. And he's still singing the anthem at the top of his voice along with tons of other people, and his eyes are sparkling like stars, and Draco has never been happier that he was mad at somebody so that they'd promise to skip with him (because it's happened so many times…).

He recognizes a third year couple, a first year, and a fellow sixth year named Pollyanna Benson all from Hufflepuff all dancing in a circle with their arms linked. From Ravenclaw there's a sixth year named Silvi Immer, a seventh year, and two fourth years spread throughout the crowd. From Slytherin there's…well, there are a lot of them: Blaise, Hermione, Gregory, Millicent, and even Neville all from sixth year, and also two second years, two fifth years, and a first year. And the Gryffindor's…

Draco's breath catches in his throat.

There are three first years, one each in year two, three, and four, and there are two in year fifth. But there are some from his year, too… Every last one of them, actually.

Pansy and Vincent are dancing a perfect waltz while singing in sync with Harry, Ron, Seamus, and Dean are all doing some sort of Irish jig that involves lots of clapping, and Lavender and Parvati are using their wands as sparklers and tracing words and shapes into the air also while singing a completely different song.

Draco honestly doesn't know what to think about it.

"Drake!" Harry says over the crowd, slowly growing larger and larger. Brooms are being summoned now, and more fireworks are going off, and more people are dancing.

"Yeah?" Draco says, still being spun around in circles by his one and only Boy Who Lived.

And suddenly Harry his kissing him, and his fingers are tangled in his hair, and his body is pressed like a rock against his. Draco throws his arms back around his waist, gripping him tighter than he would his broom when spinning out of control.

And nobody protests. Not a single person.

And when Draco and Harry finally pull apart to come up for air, red faced and smiling like exactly what they are, teenagers in love, only a select few are even looking at them—and not even with any sort of distain, but just looking.

"I take it you're glad I made you skip down the halls with me?" Draco asks.

"And that I decided to just screw everybody else and burst into song," Harry says with a wink.

Draco's not really sure what else would have happened, but it doesn't matter, because three professors (McGonagall, Sinistra, and Filch) are suddenly bustling through the giant room telling everybody to lower their voices and put out the fireworks and stop flying inside the castle and that is it in fact a Monday and why on earth are you having a sort of dance-off when there's still two entire weeks till Halloween.

Draco and Harry run towards the great doors that lead out of the Hogwarts castle in fits of giggles (Draco doesn't even want to think about what the first years watching them go are thinking), and they bursts through it and into the mildly chilly mid-October air.

"Ugh, I wish I had that fur jacket of yours," Harry says.

"Or we could use a warming charm," Draco says.

"That's a much better idea."

They do, on Draco too, and then they continue on down the pathway in the direction of the lake.

But they don't get very far, because a group of voices calls Draco's name behind them.

They turn around to see, not only every sixth year from Gryffindor House, but Luna Lovegood.

"What on earth?" Draco mutters. When the eight others get to them, Draco says louder, "What are you doing here?"

He was expecting Lavender to answer, but instead it's Pansy who takes a deep breath and talks: "As insane as this may seem, all of us aside from Luna would like to apologize for the way we've been acting to you for the school year. We admit that we were all being stupid, and we'll do anything at all to obtain your friendship again. We're sorry—immensely sorry—and we hope that you can forgive us. Also we're not doing this just because you and Potter started a chain reaction of a sort of dance-off on a Monday; we were planning on doing this back yesterday."

The entire of Draco's mind goes blank. And then everything hits him like a sledgehammer. His knees give out, and Harry just barely catches him before he hits the ground.

"Sorry!" Draco says, grasping tightly to Harry and getting back into a standing position. "Sorry, I just... Can you repeat that? I mean, not the whole thing, but the question. There was a question, right?"

Pansy gives an annoyed sigh, but before she can speak again Dean does instead: "We're asking if you'll forgive us for being bloody twats, Draco."

Draco opens and closes his mouth about four times before simply saying, "Yes."

All but Lovegood give visible sighs of relief.

"Wait a minute," Harry says, still grasping Draco around the waist to hold him up. "Why do you guys suddenly want to be his friend again? I'm pretty sure he would have told me about some trip for eight to the Lost City of Atlantis before you guys found out about it and wanted to use him to get there."

"Don't be daft, Potter," Ron says airily. "Atlantis is only lost to muggles."

"Sorry I missed that memo, then," Harry says sarcastically.

"Anyway," Lavender interrupts, finally speaking, "the reason that we're all forgiving him suddenly is because only three of us were actually against him in the first place, Harry. Draco knew that, but I'm not sure if he told you. Anyway, Draco." She turns away from Harry and to him. "Now that we're all friends again, there are a few things that I'm just going to get out of the way so we don't have to tell you later when you'll be telling us what you've been doing this past month and a half."

"Uh, okay," Draco says awkwardly.

"First off, the main reason that we all chose to come over here and accept you again is because, apparently, within the first week of school, all of us told our closest friend that we were in fact perfectly okay with you but you sent us away so this wouldn't drive our year apart. Vince told Pansy who told Ron, Seamus told Dean, and Parvati and I are cool enough to keep our mouths shut. We just found out yesterday that all of us know the real story while you were doing whatever you do with the Slytherin's, and then we got really talking about it. And here we are now.

"Dos, while we were talking about all of this yesterday, Seamus came out to all of us about his being gay and having a crush on Dean. No, Dean does not secretly like him back, but they're best friends and apparently Dean loved Seamus more than Ron and Pansy loved you so he decided that he just couldn't break up their friendship."

Ron and Pansy both burst into profanity directed at Lavender, but she shuts them up with only a flick of her wrist. Draco had always thought of himself as the leader of their little group, but obviously he's been rightly replaced.

"Anyway," she continues, "that's another major reason that we're all here right now. Two gays in one year in one House deserve some respect—of course I thought even one did, but better late than never, right?

"Number three, Ron apparently has a secret girlfriend that only we know about. And we don't even know exactly who she is—just that she is in fact a she. Although I have a guess who it is, and I'll need to run it by _you_"—she points at Harry—"later when it's just us two because I don't want anybody else to know it."

Parvati starts to protests, but Lavender holds her hand up to quiet her.

"Fourthly, Luna is here for a reason I'm not even sure of. Something about thestrals, apples, and someone named Biddy. Harry, you're her friend, do you know what that means? Because she will _not_ explain it to us."

"I _told _you," Lovegood says, looking over at Lavender in a way that Draco can only describe as exasperated, but...it's not. Lovegood could never look exasperated. "I needed to tell Harry about a baby thestral that refuses to eat anything but apples! And I could only tell him because nobody else that I know can _see_ the thestrals!"

"Yeah," Lavender says, looking away from Luna and over to Harry. "Something about that."

"Draco can see them too," Harry says to Lovegood, trying to hide his gritted teeth. "And I'm sorry, but we really don't want to see them again, as helpful as they've been. But thanks for thinking of me, Luna. Anything else?"

"Oh, yes!" she says airily. "Tell your boyfriend I say hi, and that his hair is sticking up in the back a bit."

Even with his arm around Draco's waist, Harry doesn't catch Draco when his knees again give out.

And all Lovegood does is smile, wave, and skip away.

_**OoOoOoO**_

_Thursday evening, two days before Halloween..._

"Ugh, I need to lose some weight," Blaise says from the other side of the room, standing in front of the full length mirror (that used to be a regular mirror, but he put enlargement charms on it so that it was now big enough to fit two people side by side and still have some extra room—basically it took up a lot of space) in nothing but his underwear and a pair of socks.

"You're skinnier than Greg and I," Neville says from his own bed, wearing just a wife-beater tank top and his boxers, his homework spread out along his blankets and nearly down onto the floor. (_That's what you get for taking all of the higher classes_, Harry thinks.) "Harry just can't gain anything but muscle no matter how hard he tries. You look fine."

"The similarities between this bloke and Dumbledore are astounding," Greg says from his own bed, wearing the same thing as Neville but with socks, and completely changing the subject.

Harry looks away from Neville and Blaise to see Greg lying on his back, in his own bed, reading a book called _The Fellowship of the Ring_ by J. R. R. Tolkien. (Sirius had given them to Harry as the last birthday present that he was alive to do so. They were muggle books, and Harry had only read the first one so far—the one that Greg is reading—but he was telling Greg about it a few days ago and he wanted to read them. Harry brought the four books (_The Hobbit_ (which is more of a prequel to the series), _The Fellowship of the Ring_, _The Two Towers_, and _The Return of the King_) with him to Hogwarts in memory of Sirius and in case he ever felt like reading a good book, and now he was glad because his friends got to read them, too.)

"Gandalf, you mean?" Harry asks from his own bed, dressed in just a pair of jeans. He had just gotten back from a wash in the prefects bathroom (the passwords to that thing were easier to figure out than just tickling the pear to get into the kitchen) and didn't feel like dressing completely.

So basically, the entire room is filled with half-dressed sixteen year old boys.

"Yeah, Gandalf," Greg says.

"Who's he?" Blaise asks, continuing to pinch skin on his stomach and frown into the mirror.

"A muggle wizard," Harry replies.

Neville looks up from his homework for the first time all night and blinks at Harry. "Wait, what?"

"Uh, I mean a wizard in a muggle book."

"Oh, okay, that makes way more sense." He looks back down at his work.

"What are you even working on?" Greg asks, looking away from his book and over to Neville. "You've been absorbed in papers for the last hour."

"Lots of classes," Neville says, "but right now its astronomy. Professor Sinistra has this big paper due tomorrow on the alignment of the stars during Halloween."

"Oh, we'll shut up about talking to you, then."

"Speak for yourself," Blaise says, crossing the room to stand by Neville's bed. "I have this class with you. What did you say about Orion's belt? That's all I have left and it's giving me a headache."

"Huh? Oh, I think it means that we're all going to have t—"

And suddenly the door to their dormitory bursts open, and there stands Lavender Brown, dressed in a dark pink, fluffy bathrobe with matching slippers, a mug of something hot in one hand and a lavender coloured satchel hanging from her shoulder.

All four boys scream shrilly (but manly, Harry swears). Blaise clambers all over Neville's papers and yanks the curtain shut, Greg drops his book and yanks his blankets up to his neck, and Harry yanks his own curtain shut so fast he's sure Lavender saw _nothing_ involving his chest.

"You all have a lovely taste in undergarments," Lavender says, taking a sip from her mug. "And Harry, I'm surprised that you're a bare-chested bloke. I pictured hair all over the place. Then again, you've never exactly had any stubble... Anyway, nice window." Harry sticks his head out from behind the curtain to see her gesturing with her satchel arm to the fake window, currently reading _Thursday, October 29, 10:07 in the evening. Pleasant but chilly_.

"Lavender, _how_ did you get _in_ here?" Harry asks, opening the curtain completely since she saw him anyway. "And more importantly, _what_ are you doing here?"

"And without knocking!" Blaise says from Neville's bed.

"Get out of here!" Neville growls at Blaise.

"But I'm only in my underwear!"

"It doesn't matter! She's already seen it!"

"No, she was just lying so she could get another look at it!"

"Actually, Blaise," Lavender says, "you're wearing blue briefs with yellow swirls on them. Very manly, I have to say."

Blaise gives an angry _humph_, and then the curtain is yanked back and he sulks across the room, glaring at Lavender. When he gets to his bed he crawls on and yanks his own curtain closed. Neville just keeps his open and continues on with his homework, and by that time Greg just lets the blanket fall down to his lap and he continues reading.

"Anyway, Harry, to answer your first question," Lavender says, "I happen to be on very good terms with the Fat Lady, who happens to be particularly good friends with the man in the portrait that hangs across from the entrance to your Slytherin common room. His name is Barney Binns—no, not related to the History of Magic professor—and he has a rather fond love of peas. Anyway, we've become good enough friends that after hardly five minutes he gave me the password that he overhears every time it's used. And here I am now, to discuss with you the two answers I have for your second question.

"First off, we have yet to discuss my theory with Ron's secret girlfriend, and I really don't like keeping things to myself. Dos, I've come to understand that you're heading off to Malfoy Manor for Halloween tomorrow...you need a costume, and I'm here to help you make something that will be the sexiest for your boyfriend. Yes, I know what he thinks and does not think is sexy—do not question me."

Harry blinks at her, and even Neville is looking up again.

"Sorry to go against you and whatnot," Harry says at length, "but I have a question."

Lavender sighs. "Ask away."

"Why do you know Draco so well?"

She giggles. "I know everybody well. I notice things. You know, I haven't told anybody this, so yay for you, but I called the whole Fred and George thing back in our first year. I also knew that you and Draco were both gay and secretly in love with each other by the middle of third year."

Harry gapes at her. "Wait, really?"

"Yup. And I don't lie. There's no point. You can even use Veritaserum on me if you want to, but that's a lot of work, so let's not."

Blaise's curtain opens, and now he's dressed in a tank top matching Neville's and Greg's (_I feel so out of place_, Harry thinks) and a pair of gray sweats. "That's really cool," he says. "What do you know about _me_?"

Lavender arches an eyebrow. "Not that I watch you on a regular basis, but I'm pretty sure you're the bloke that really hates feet."

Blaise purses his lips. "Yup. That's me. Can't stand 'em."

She nods. "I remember that from fourth year."

"What about me?" Neville asks, and Harry thinks that his homework may finally be forgotten.

Lavender looks at him with a dark expression. "How about I don't say the things I've noticed about you out loud, hmm?"

Neville's turns slightly red. "Yeah, good idea." And then he goes back to his homework with an all knew ferocity.

"My turn!" Greg says, his book laying turned over so that the spine is probably breaking. Good thing Harry doesn't care about them _that_ much. They're only books, after all.

Lavender laughs. "I've noticed you a lot since you're around Draco a lot. You wear a lot of red for a Slytherin, you make your face look like a beavers when you're stuck between surprised and confused, and for a Slytherin you're surprisingly muggle tolerant. Though that last one isn't very odd...a lot of the Slytherin's are. Especially Granger, obviously. All of its kind of odd in general... Huh. Anyway, you can also see the thestrals. I can't see them, but I know when they're there, so I know when somebody else can see them, too."

She turns away from Greg and back to Harry. "And as much as I'd love to spend the next few hours telling you everything that I've noticed about you, we have much more important matters to discuss. Ron's secret girlfriend, for example. Oh, Greg," she says, turning back to him. "I also know that, if I'm right in who I think it is, you know exactly who I'm thinking about. Am I right or am I going to tell the entire school my idea and it end up coming out of the closet anyway?"

Greg's jaw is hanging, but he quickly clamps it shut. "I don't have a clue what you're talking about."

"And you're lying," Lavender says matter-of-factly, "so I guess I don't need to discuss it with Harry at all." She gives him a bright smile at his again dropped-jaw expression and turns back to Harry again. "Never mind about Ron's secret girlfriend, I know I'm right now. Anyway, about your costume. You can't be a werewolf, because that requires having a furry face, though the ripped clothes would be nice. Also because Draco doesn't like dogs. And let's not make you a cat, either—or a fairy. You don't have the right build for a cat, and his mother doesn't like fairies, and you'll be around her a lot. Also it's a bit too gay, even for you. Though I must admit that Draco is most definitely the gayer of you two. Have you seen those gold Ugg's he wears?"

Harry bursts into laughter, and even the other three sixth year Slytherin's laugh.

"Lavender, I have never met someone who can jump around sentences like that and still be the most straightforward person I know. Maybe you're a turquoise."

"Nope," she says, holding her satchel out. "I do in fact know exactly what you mean by that, and I do in fact have a Glimmer Bag just like you and Draco do, and my colour is in fact my name. But I took a test at the store I got it from that gives you your next top three colours and that one is my second."

"Oh, there's a test for that?"

She nods. "You don't even have to buy one. You can just take it. Kind of like a free incentive to buy your own or something. I'm not all too sure. Anyway, we're discussing your costume. Would you rather be a vampire or a dragon? I know vampires are so overused even in the wizarding world, but they can be very sexy, and I'm sure either would please Draco just as much. I have all of the things and spells written down to make you look like the perfect of each of them. If you're a vampire I'll give you fangs, change your eye colour, make you as pale as Draco is, and I stole one of Snape's totally robes—don't ask me how, and don't tell anybody or the next time you crawl into bed you'll regret it—and we can either line the inside of it with red or silver. And I have a few other things, but that's the basic gist of it.

"If you're a dragon, though, you can either be green or gold—green for your House and gold for Draco's—so actually you can't be green because Draco likes gold more. I'll make all of your teeth sharp, but not sharp enough to accidentally bite your tongue off, and we can change your eyes to the colour gold as well, and I know the perfect way to make you a tail and claws. And _then_ we can turn Snape's robes into a cloak of gold scales that I'll transfigure into a pair of wings—and no they won't actually make you fly, so try not to attempt it, though I'm sure you'll be so high on sweets and alcohol and whatever else is at Draco's house that you will anyway. Unless of course you're too busy having sex, but I'd rather not think about that, so maybe I should have just kept my mouth shut."

Harry looks away awkwardly, Blaise laughs, Greg wrinkles his nose up, and Neville does absolutely nothing.

"Anyway, I've decided that you're going to be a gold dragon. Lovely discussion we've had. Don't move while I set all of my things up."

And with that, Lavender chugs the last of the contents of her mug, drops it inside of her satchel, plops down in the middle of the bedroom, and begins to empty the other things inside of her never ending Glimmer Bag.

_Our floor is going to be a sea of cosmetics_, Harry thinks.

"Forgive me if I'm wrong," Blaise says, leaning against the post of Harry's bed that's closest to Lavender, "but isn't a discussion held between at least two people?"

"A discussion is when somebody is having a back and forth conversation. I was doing that perfectly well with myself, and Harry would just mess me up anyway. Now move. I have more things and your feet are taking up my space."

Blaise huffs and moves back over to his own bed, leaning against its edge and watching Lavender with crossed arms.

When she's done emptying the Bag (all but the mug), the floor doesn't look like a sea—it just looks like a girl set up all her cosmetics and some of her clothing in the middle of the floor.

"What is _that_?" Greg asks, now wearing sweats and standing as close to Lavender as he can without stepping into her circle of feminine products, and pointing at something Harry is sure he's seen somewhere.

"Oh, sorry," she says, grabbing it and throwing it back into the Bag. "That's a muggle device for a female problem that I use whenever the spells I've got to keep my underwear..." She trails off, noticing the four disgusted looks on the faces of the males around her. "For your sakes, let's just say that you'll never need one."

All of them let out great sighs of relief, except Harry, who knew what it was so that he ultimately knew that he would not need one.

"Alright, Harry, I have a confession to make," she says, standing up and weaving her way through the bottles and jars of things Harry could, probably and honestly, just music magic for instead of buying all these things and taking up all this space. She sits down on the bed beside Harry, nearly on top of him.

"Uh, what is it?" Harry asks tentatively.

"I lied when I said that I stole one of Snape's robes."

Harry frowns, because her dragon wing idea really was brilliant. But then Lavender is grinning, and Harry face changes to confused.

Still grinning, Lavender says, "I stole two."

The four boys actually laugh, as funny as it really isn't. "_How_, though?" Neville asks—not looking up from his homework, by the way.

"Told you not to ask me that!" she says in a singsong voice, crawling off of Harry's bed. "Now, Harry, I suggest you get off the bed, or I'll be forced to knock you out and dress you up like a mountain troll."

Harry rolls his eyes, but does get out of bed. And the next thing he knows, Lavender has pointed her wand at his bed, said some words Harry's never heard, and the bed is turned into a large desk and a stool.

"Hey!" Harry says. "I sleep there!"

"Oh, don't get your knickers in a twist; I'm going to change it back."

Harry snorts so hard that Blaise has to summon him a tissue.

"Thanks," Harry says once he's finished cleaning his face, tossing the tissue into the rubbish bin. Then he turns to Lavender, who's at the moment hanging her Glimmer Bag on the handle of the dorm door, and says, "So are we doing this now or...?"

"No," Lavender says, looking at him over her shoulder. "I just covered your floor with every bit of make-up I own for the fun of it." She starts to take her robe off, which makes sense to Harry, because the sleeves are so big and fluffy they'll probably get in the way for transforming Harry anyway.

"Sorry," Harry says, rolling his eyes. "How are—_good gods, Lavender_!" he yells, and all four boys cover their faces with their hands.

"What?" Lavender says.

Harry spreads his fingers apart to watch her with one eye as she turns around and look at him with a confused expression.

"What are you _wearing_?" Blaise asks, doing the same as Harry had.

Lavender looks down at herself and then up at Blaise. "Clothes?"

"You look like you're halfway through a strip tease!"

She shrugs. "Not saying I object. They're pretty fun."

Harry's jaw drops, his hands falling to his lap, Blaise drops his own hands and stares at her face, his right eye twitching, Greg grabs his book and buries his face in it, and Neville closes his eyes and starts to message his temples.

Lavender's shorts are practically nonexistent. They're more like Spandex underwear—lime green and hot pink zebra print, he might add. It doesn't look like she's even wearing real underwear underneath them, unless it's a... Nope, Harry doesn't even want to think about it. Her top has no sleeves and is ripped at the hem so that it's about a centimeter above her naval (which is pierced with some sort of sapphire coloured dolphin stud, and Harry has to admit that it's really quite pretty)—and no, she's not wearing a bra. She keeps her fuzzy slippers on, but that doesn't exactly help cover her up at all. Every bit of leg is showing, and Harry's suddenly never been more excited that he's gay, or this would be twice as awkward.

"That awkward moment when nearly all of us are dating somebody," Blaise says, averting his from Lavender and to the mess of items on the floor.

"That awkward moment when you're the only single one," Greg says from behind his book.

"Hey, I've read those," Lavender says, looking over at him.

"You have?" he asks, just barely lowering the book so that his eyes show over the top.

"Sort of. I've read The Habit or whatever it is, and I only got halfway through that one there."

"It's _The Hobbit_, actually. And you should finish them. They're good."

"If I can find them I will."

Lavender walks over to the desk and summons a bunch of items from the floor, covering its once empty face. "Come on, Harry," she says, spinning the chair around for him to sit. "I have a costume to create."

_**OoOoOoO**_

Neville finishes his astronomy paper right as Lavender gets Harry to sit in the chair that was once part of his bed. It took a lot of coaxing (Neville isn't sure why Harry didn't just trust the girl and sit), and Harry still refused, so finally Lavender just hit him with a _stupefy_, arranged him in the chair, tied him up with _incarcerous_, and woke him back up.

Harry threw a huge fit, absolutely pissed at her, and she said that next time she would cast the Imperius Curse. (Of course, that just made Harry laugh—because everybody knows that it doesn't affect him, not even when Voldemort does it—so he ended up cooperating just fine. But Neville was sure Lavender would have known it doesn't work on him; maybe her plan was to make him laugh all along.)

Neville, Greg, and Blaise hang around as close as they can to see Lavender transforming Harry into a golden dragon but also not get hit in the fact by a flying bottle of lotion or whatever.

"I have a question," Blaise says at length.

"Yes?" Lavender says without looking away from what she's doing to Harry's eyes.

"Halloween isn't for a couple more days, so why are you dressing Harry up now?"

"Because it needs to be perfect, so I'm experimenting with everything right now. I've also been writing down the order I do everything in so Harry can do it by himself when he's at the Malfoy's Manor. Although, Harry, it may be a bit awkward, but I suggest that you ask Draco's mother to help you with this. I mean, you can dress yourself, but let her enchant everything, alright? I've written down all the spells, so it should be easy for her."

"But that's so awkward!" Harry protests. "I don't want to ask my boyfriends mum to help me with a costume that supposed to turn on my boyfriend!"

Neville keeps his flinches on the inside at the word _boyfriend_. He's gotten a lot better at keeping to himself; only Millicent can call everything now.

"Don't worry," Lavender continues, "it will only turn _Draco_ on. Everyone else will just think your costume's amazing. Close your eyes."

Harry grumbles unintelligibly to himself but does.

When Lavender finishes with Harry's left eye, she turns to the three other boys. "Are all you blokes willing to help me with this?" she asks.

Greg and Neville nod right away, but Blaise nods more reluctantly.

"Okay, good, because this is going to take a long time." She grabs one of the man pieces of parchment from the desk and hands it to Greg. "I need each of you to find a shirt that you never wear anymore and practice these spells on them, because I'm going to ask you guys to change Snape's robes different colours. There are six, and you guys can each learn three. Divide them however you like."

They nod and move off to their trunks to dig for old clothes.

"Is there anything for me to do?" Neville asks.

"Yeah, just a second," she says, immersing herself in something surrounding Harry's eyelashes. When she looks back up she hands him another list. "I need you to mix all of these together. Follow the directions perfectly or we'll probably burn Harry's skin off." Harry starts to protest, but she talks over him: "Don't hurt yourself, boy. I'll make sure it's made right before I put it on you. Anyway, Neville, just _accio_ them so you don't have to go through all this stuff."

Neville nods, takes and paper, and starts with the first thing on the list: "_Accio mixing bowl_!"

_**XxX**_

_One hour later..._

Neville has never had more respect for a Gryffindor in his entire life. Harry is the dragon _god_.

Whatever Lavender said about the costume only turning on Draco is absolute naff. Even Greg and Blaise look awed.

Both of Snape's robes have been coloured a beautiful, shimmering, glittering Gryffindor gold. One has indeed become the wings, which has loops on the underside for Harry to slip his arms into, and they're just barely longer than his arm span, so if he spreads his arms you aren't able to see his hands from behind. And if he wants to he can slip his arms out of the loops and the wings will continue to hang there because they're still wrapped around his shoulders and at the base of his sternum.

The second robe has been turned into a full bodysuit that hugs tightly to Harry's body (similar to a muggle scuba diving suit), outlining every muscle of his chest and his legs. The hood of the cloak is transfigured to look like the hide of a dragon (similar in design to Luna's famous lion head for Gryffindor/other House Quidditch games), and you'll feel each individual scale if you drag your hand down the suit. Lavender has transfigured a pair of Harry's Quidditch boots into gold dragon riding boots, with the added touch of claws. The only skin the suit shows is his hands (which have had nothing done to them, but his nails have been lengthened by a centimeter, dully sharpened, and painted the same glittering gold as his suit) plus his neck and up. Lavender also, before changing the robe into the bodysuit, ripped off one of the sleeves and turned that into a tail, and then she managed to use the old shirts that Greg and Blaise were practicing on and turn them into small, triangular spikes going from the middle of his back to the tip of his tail.

Lavender changed the colour of Harry's eyes, so instead of their regular Slytherin green colour they're a smooth gold (because sparkling eyes are a bit much, Lavender says). All of the skin between his eyes and eyebrows has been sprinkles with sparkles the same gold as his suit, his eyelashes are coated in gold mascara, and his eyebrows have a faint gold tint to them. He has on gold eyeliner, and on one side of his face Lavender drew a sort of twirly/twisted design in gold face paint that's designed to, once it dries, show a thin black outline so it stands out more, since gold is usually a hard colour to see on people's skin. She's turned Harry's glasses gold and even painted his scar gold. His black hair is littered with gold sparkles as well, and his teeth have been dully sharpened like his nails.

"_Viola_," Lavender says, stepping away from Harry with a smug glint in her eyes. "Behold the creation of the transfiguration goddess."

"Wow," Greg says. "I thought the dragons brought in for the Triwizard Tournament shimmered. You look like a great big blob of golden glitter. It's amazing."

"And to think most of that came from Snape's robes..." Neville says, dragging a finger down Harry's arm to feel the scales. "I will never look at the man the same way again. This is beautiful." _You're beautiful_, Neville wants to say, but instead he just thinks it. _You are the most beautiful dragon I have and ever will meet. I wish that I could be your dragon instead of Draco. Draco is a terrible dragon; he's not nearly feral enough._

"Lavender, you're incredible," Blaise says. "Would you kill me if I asked you to help me with my vampire costume?"

"Depends how much you'll pay me," Lavender says with a grin.

"How much do you want?"

"Your grandma helps run the _It's A Wizard Thing_ magazine, right?"

"Yeah..."

"I've gotten that magazine since as long as I can remember, and it's the reason I got into cosmetology and clothes designing. I want to meet her."

"I'll arrange it."

"Then we have a deal?"

Blaise nods and sticks out his hand to shake hers.

"Nuh-uh, I need some more reassurance than that. You're a Slytherin, after all."

"Honestly, Brown, I don't think I want to cross you. On my word as needing to impress my own girlfriend with a costume for the sixth and seventh year Halloween dance, I will owl my grandma even today."

"And how about I stay and watch you owl it?"

"Deal."

They shake on it.

"As much as I'd like to agree with you all on how amazing I look," Harry says, "I can't, because Lavender hasn't let me look in a mirror yet."

"Oh, I forgot!" Lavender says. "Come and look." Lavender grabs Harry's hand and pulls him slowly (because there are still things all over the floor) over to Blaise's full-length mirror.

When they stop in front of it, Harry's jaw drops, his eyes roaming over his body in the mirror.

"Merlin help me," Harry whispers. "I'm like a ball of golden light. And...wow, this bodysuit thing makes me look really muscular. Wow. Lavender, I...wow. Thank you. Oh my gods—including you—this is amazing. I'm going to get glitter everywhere, though. I hope Narcissa won't mind. But...wow, I don't even care. It's practically molded to my skin. Stop staring at my crotch, Lavender, that's disgusting." (Neville quick snaps his own eyes up before Harry notices him staring, too.) "Get your own boyfriend. Damn, you made it this tight on purpose, didn't you? How am I going to get out of it? Is there a zipper somewhere? I can't feel it."

"Yeah, it's on your left side," Lavender says, lifting his left arm to show him. "It's really hard to see, but it goes from below your armpit to your knee, so just tell Draco that whenever you...uh...anyway, Blaise, let's write that letter, shall we?"

Blaise nods and they make their way over to sit on his bed, both sitting as far from each other as they can.

"Hey, maybe you could put some pictures of Harry in the letter!" Greg says. "Then she can see the talent that you have!"

"Ooh, brilliant idea, Goyle," Lavender says, crawling back off of the bed. She grabs her Glimmer Bag, and holding her hand above the opening a camera jumps out into her hand. "Harry, don't move unless I tell you too, alright?"

"Right," Harry says, planting himself firm as a statue in front of the mirror.

Lavender goes right up next to him and starts to take picture after picture. Full body ones, ones of just his face, one of just his eyes, his claws, his shoes, and a few of little details parts that people aren't supposed to see, like the zipper and the straps that keep the wings on.

"Just a second while they print out. It takes a few sec—oh, they're done." She presses her wand to the camera and pictures start to slide out, printed and moving like all wizard pictures are supposed to. "Tell me if these are good," she says, passing the pictures out to the four boys.

They all see each picture, and Neville has to admit Lavender is pretty good at photography as well—even with the horrible lighting of the room.

In the full body ones Harry is spinning in slow circles, and Neville's not sure if Harry looks seductive or just uncomfortable being a model. The ones of just his face he's opening and closing his mouth to show his teeth, and the ones of just his eyes he's blinking slowly so his eyelids are visible. There's one of his hands, where Harry is turning his palm over and flexing his fingers so the nails glitter in the dim light of the room. The one of the zipper Harry unzips it about an inch and then zips it back up, and where he's showing the many straps he's taking the wings off and back on again.

"Perfect," they all say, and Lavender thrusts all of the pictures happily into Blaise's hand.

And then Lavender starts to put everything back how it's supposed to be. She turns the desk and stool back into Harry's bed, and she puts away all of the bottles and things back into her Glimmer Bag. And finally—_finally_—she pulls her bathrobe back on.

"Alright, Harry," Lavender says. "There are four spells you have to say to get all of this stuff off of you without hurting yourself. I'll do them right now, but you'll have to do it at the Manor, alright?"

Harry nods.

"Alright, this one is for taking off all of that make-up. So don't move or I might accidentally remove an eyebrow."

The fact that Neville, Greg, and Blaise all laugh doesn't help Harry stand still at all, but he manages it as Lavender points her wand at him and says, "_Tollere emplastrum_!"

All of the glitter—around his eyes and on the side of his face and on his neck and his shoulders and in his hair and even on his fingernails—all of it that's not part of the clothes—disappears.

"Ouch," Harry says, rubbing his hands down his face. "That kind of hurt. It felt like someone stuck me with flypaper and then ripped it off."

"Yeah, that's supposed to happen," Lavender says. "And the good news is, you still have both eyebrows intact. Hold your arms out. This one is for your clothes. Not only does it take them off of you, but they also fold themselves beside you and go back to whatever they originally look like. Do not try and memorize it when I say it, though, because if you get it wrong they'll shrink and end up either ripping or squishing you."

"These are immensely dangerous," Harry says with a frown. "Maybe I should just take them off myself."

"No. Hold your arms out or I'll _stupefy_ you."

Harry does, but reluctantly.

"_Removere vestem_!" Lavender says, and the clothes disappear. The four boys look around frantically for a second, but then they appear at Harry's feet: the two robes and ripped sleeve back to black and folded neatly, and his Quidditch boots again brown and leaning against his feet."

"Wow," Harry and Greg says, and Blaise adds, "I am definitely going to have to learn that one."

"I'll teach whoever wants to know it later," Lavender says. "Right now, though, I'm going to change your eyes back to normal."

"Can't you just use _finite incantatem_?" Neville asks.

Lavender shakes her head no. "Not all spells can be reversed so simply. Never forget that. Now open your eyes big and wide, Harry. Don't blink."

"I have a better idea," Harry says, going over to his trunk. "Pants. As much as you enjoy walking around in zebra print and tube tops, I like pants, and you're still staring at my crotch."

"What can I say?" Lavender says, shrugging. "You're body is _fine_."

Harry wrinkles up his nose in disgust, Neville and Greg cover most of their laughter with a snort, and Blaise just bursts into shameless guffaws.

Glaring at him, Harry pulls on the jeans he was wearing earlier, and then walks back over to Lavender.

"For how long do I keep my eyes open?"

"Not very long. Until I change them back."

"How long will that take?"

"Not even five seconds. Hurry up."

Harry squeezes his eyes shut, and then opens them nice and wide.

"_Pone oculos_!" Lavender says, her wand pointed between Harry's eyes.

While most of the other spells worked instantly, this one is much slower. The gold is slowly washed out of Harry's eyes by his regular Slytherin green sliding down like paint dripping down the side of a house.

When it's finished Harry starts to blink rapidly. "Ow," he says. "I think I know what it's like to wear contacts, now. Thank Merlin for glasses."

"What are contacts?" Greg asks.

"Muggle things that people wear in place of glasses. You put them right up against your eye, so they're pretty much inside of your eyelids."

"Sounds painful and difficult," Blaise says, still writing the letter to his grandmother on his bed.

"Which is why I wear glasses."

"Anyway!" Lavender says. "I still have to do your nails and teeth, and they have to be done separately. Say cheese."

"Cheeeese," Harry says, keeping his smile plastered onto his face.

"_Mutare ossa_!" Lavender says, and his teeth slowly unsharpened until they're back to their regular shape and size. "Alright, now hold your hands out." Harry does, rubbing his tongue over his teeth at the same time, and she says the same words to make Harry's nails shrink back to their original size.

"Ooh, my bones feel all tingly now," Harry says, flexing his fingers. "And now I'm not scared of biting my tongue in half. Very nice."

"You're welcome," Lavender says, sticking her wand into the pocket of her fuzzy robe.

"Eureka!" Blaise says, jumping off of his bed. "I'm finished with the letter, Brown. I'll send it right now, and then you'll come back on Saturday to help me with my costume, alright?"

"Right," Lavender says, snatching the letter from him. "And I'll send this, thanks. I trust me to remember to do it way more than I trust you. By the way, Harry, do you like cats or ghosts better?"

"What?" Harry says. "Uh, yeah, as embarrassing as it is coming from a Slytherin, I think I like cats better."

Neville grins, remember the very first day of school. Not this year, but first year. The first time that he and Harry saw Malfoy, Weasley, Parkinson, and Crabbe was on the train, and they were all swooning over a little kitten. Harry probably liked cats then, too.

"Okay, what colour do you like them best?"

"Erm...gray I guess."

"What shade of gray?"

"Dark gray?"

"Alright, and do you like green or light pink eyes better?"

"Green."

"Hmm, I like blue better. See you all tomorrow! Have a nice night!"

And with that, Lavender grabs her satchel from the door handle and disappears out of the room, slamming the door loudly behind her.

"Did anybody else notice that the back of her...pants? I really don't think they can be considered that," Greg says, pursing his lips. "Anyway, was I the only one that noticed 'HEY THERE' crammed into that space of her...ah...backside."

"Yeah, and her shirt said 'Doing it.' across the front with a weird checkmark shape. What does that even mean?"

Neville certainly didn't notice, and the look on Harry's face shows that he hadn't noticed either, but there is a certain form of recognition there—he just can't place what it's for exactly.

"Blaise, geez, you have a girlfriend," Greg says.

"Oh, come on, she was practically begging to be noticed! And I tried not to watch her while she walked. I really did! Ugh." He drags his hands down his face. "Women. The ultimate curse."

"And people wonder why I'm gay," Harry says, looking down at his hands.

And that effectively ends the conversation.

_**OoOoOoO**_

_The next morning…_

Draco finds himself being shaken awake. When he yanks his eyes open the light in the room indicates that its morning, but instead of Ron being above him waking him up it's...

"'Ender?" he asks, rubbing his eyes.

"Yeah, it's me. Shh, you're sick, okay?"

"What, no I'm—oh, I get it, yeah, I feel terrible." Draco thanks the gods he's always been one to wake up faster and get his brain working quicker than the average creature, or Lavender probably would have hit him.

"Good job. You're also going to skip breakfast and your first class today. I need to talk to you."

"But what about Harry? He'll think I'm sick or hurt and come looking for him! I don't want him to get in trouble."

"No, I told Parvati to tell him that you don't feel good so you'll be out later. I thought of everything; don't worry."

"Oh, okay. What's all this about, then?"

She grins, and a mysterious glint shines into her eyes. "Draco, my dear, how do you feel about _cats_?"

* * *

References: 1. _Tollere emplastrum_ is Latin for "take off plaster". I like to call make-up "plaster", because most girls wear it plastered onto their faces like masks. I happen to wear just mascara and one layer of liquid cover-up, and that's it. I hate eyeliner, eye shadow, and it's too much work to put on the powder of the cover-up. Honestly, though. I'd rather read a book than care what I look like.

2. _Removere vestem_ is Latin for "remove clothes". That speaks for itself.

3. _Pone oculos_ is Latin for "fix eyes". That should speak for itself as well.

4. _Mutare ossa_ is Latin for "change bones". Since teeth and nails are actually part of our bones (learned that from the _X Men: Wolverine_ movie, actually), this one should be pretty obvious too.

/

A/N: As I've said before, I've obviously completely changed Lavender's personality from what she really is in the books. But I made her a bit...erm...slutty? No, that's not the right word. She just doesn't have the words "privacy" or "personal space" in her vocabulary. Hmm…I was trying to come up with a way that she was still kind of Lavender, but I guess that's not the case. She's just completely different, but she's still a Gryffindor. Whatevs.  
Also, The chapter title? Yup, that was explained right at the end of Lavender being in the Slytherin dorm. "HEY THERE" is because of her pants/underwear/Spandex/whatever, and the "Doing it." with the weird checkmark is a Nike shirt!


	17. Year 6, Part VII

**Year Six, Part VII: Happily in Dirt**

Beginning chapter A/N's: Another chapter dedicated to creativity, but more specifically in poetry. Maybe it was easy for Dr. Seuss to make something up on the spot for the most random of topics, but it is _not_ my forte!

* * *

"That was the longest Friday I have ever had the displeasure of living through," Harry says to Draco once their Defense against the Dark Arts class is finally over. Both had been complaining the entire day, and even Snape had gotten grumpy towards them by halfway through the class period. Not that Snape was being necessarily friendly anymore, but he had actually taken points from Draco for knocking over the cage of the giant possessing (as in like the Imperius Curse) spider. It didn't get free, like the fairies Lavender knocked over on Monday didn't, but Weasley—er, Ron (Harry is trying to start calling them by their first names like Draco does the Slytherin's, but it's extremely difficult) still let out a blood-curdling scream. Apparently he doesn't like spiders all that much.

"I know," Draco says, rolling his eyes. "And there was only one spider. I'm not even sure why Snape gave us a turn with it since he knows that it doesn't actually affect us. Sure, he was trying to be subtly nice, but who wants to have a go at being possessed by a spider?"

"Actually, he was probably getting back at us for whining through the whole class about how long this day's been."

"That's a point. Anyway, are you packed?"

"Hell yes I'm packed. And I'm sure you were packed at least a week ago," Harry says, grinning up at his blond.

"Whereas you," Draco says, looking down at him, "probably packed this morning."

"Speaking of this morning," Harry says, deciding not to tell him that he's dead correct, "are you still feeling alright? I know it's better than this morning, but I don't want to…hurt you…if you're sick."

Draco cocks and eyebrow and shines a knowing and toothless smile. "I'm unaware as to why you would be hurting _me_, but yes, I feel great. I told you 'Ender's great with stomach problems. She really should be in the higher classes with 'Mione and 'Ville with those magical skills of hers."

"Or she just gave you some Advil."

"Some what?"

"Uh, never mind, it's a muggle thing."

"Oh, that makes sense. She is muggleborn, you know."

"Ah. That would explain the Nike shirt."

Draco blinks down at him. "Pardon?"

"Erm, another muggle thing. Just…hey, is your favorite colour still lavender?"

Draco smirks, and Harry knows he knows that he's just trying to change the subject. "Actually, brown is beginning to grow on me," he says.

Harry rolls his eyes and then stays looking forward. "Liar."

Draco chuckles beside him. "Yeah, I still don't like that colour. I'm more a lavender kinda bloke."

And suddenly, throughout the surrounding crowd, a voice rings out: "I heard my name!" Lavender's head pops up a good distance away. "_I_—'scuse me—_heard_—hellooo—_my_—yeah, that's right little first year, step aside—_name_—good gods, MOVE!" And finally she's beside them, a look of both annoyance and rage on her face. But then it melts away into a warm smile, and she steps between them and throws her arms around their shoulders. "I do wish you were as short as Harry, Draco dear," she says. "This is very lopsided." She pulls her arms off of them. "Anyway. You summoned me?"

"Actually, we were—" Harry begins, but Draco starts at the same time and drowns him out: "Yes! We were talking about you! I was just thinking, if you have three people's costumes to help with, when would you be able to make yours? Also, what are you going to be and who are you going with?"

Lavender smiles so brightly that Harry can't help but compare her to Draco. Really, they're hardly anything alike, but they get excited over the same things, and a lot in the same way. Of course, Harry hadn't asked Draco about his costume (so he hadn't seen his reaction to the question), because that means he will have to explain his own, and he doesn't want to ruin the surprise. Draco hasn't asked about his, either, so Harry assumes he feels the same way.

"Well, I'll be working pretty early on them so I can fit mine in, but I know that the last person's needs to be perfect so I'm setting aside two hours for her instead of the regular one hour. But she has this really important class to take kinda late, which means if mine takes an hour like everybody else's does then I'll be about ten minutes late. But I'm sure my date won't mind. And speaking of my date, I think you two should _guess_ who I'm going with."

"Which House?" Draco asks.

"Ours."

"Okay, I guess Seamus, because you're one of the only people that know about his…yeah."

"Uh, I guess Thom—Dean," Harry says. "Because I can't think of anybody else."

"Harry's right," Lavender says. "Seamus is going with Parvati for your reason, Draco. And no, Dean does not like me; yes, he's going with me because he's afraid he'll hurt Seamus going with anybody else. Also, no, he doesn't really want to go with anybody else anyway."

"Whom are the others going with?" Draco asks.

"Pansy is going with Vince, and Ron is going to show up with his secret girlfriend. So you'll both miss the schools reaction to another Gryffindor—Slytherin couple."

Both Harry and Draco's heads snap over to look at Lavender. "What?" Harry says at the same time Draco says, "Pardon?"

"Oh, I never told you, did I? Ron was still up when I finally got back to Gryffindor Tower, and in exchange for being one of the three people I'm helping he told me who his secret girl is."

"And?" Harry and Draco say in unison.

"I have some homework I want to finish. We'll go to the common room where nobody will hear us. Because I'm not supposed to tell anybody, but since you won't even be here it doesn't exactly matter."

"Alright," Draco says, "but mother will be here in an hour, so Harry and I have to hurry so we can get our things together."

She nods. "And in the meantime, my costume!"

"Oh, yes!" Draco says. "What _are_ you going to be?"

"I haven't decided yet," she says, pursing her lips.

Harry snorts. "Then why are you helping everybody else?"

She shrugs. "I don't really care how I look. Just knowing that people impress their dates because of me is all I care about. Do you guys have any ideas for me?"

"An owl," Harry says. "A snowy owl. I've always wanted one, but I've never gotten around to buying one."

Draco opens his mouth to give his own idea, but Lavender speaks first: "Actually, I think I'll be a leopard. But thanks anyway!" And by that time they're at the portrait hole and Lavender is giving the Fat Lady the password, so Draco just keeps his mouth shut.

The three of them settle in a corner, and Lavender refuses to say anything until she's completely set up for her Care of Magical Creatures homework ("Oh hell," Draco says, "I'll have to work on that when I get back. I forgot all about it; Hagrid _never_ gives us homework.").

"So which one of you is it?" Harry asks, referring the entirety of the Slytherin House as a whole. "The one Weas—Ron is dating?"

Lavender looks around the room to make sure the three other inhabitants aren't listening (they're not) before saying in a whisper, "Hermione Granger."

Draco bursts into laughter, but Harry just gapes at Lavender. "_Hermione_?" he asks, flabbergasted.

Lavender sends Draco a death glare to shut him up (it works) before nodding at Harry and saying, "I noticed back on the first day, though. Do you remember how the first two people to find you were Ron and her?"

The two boys nod.

"Well, the reason we split ourselves up was because none of us trusted each other and decided a truce just until we found you both, because we knew it would go faster with more people. When we were deciding partners, Ron instantly said he'd go with Hermione. And to add to it, when we were all in the kitchen and Ron and his sister were leaving, they looked at each other. They've been watching each other more and more ever since, and they're finally going public about it. Now I just wish that I knew _how_ they got together, because I can't figure it out..."

"How surreal," Draco says while Harry just racks his brain for any past clues as to Ron and Hermione's relationship. There was last night when Lavender had exchanged some very confusing words with Greg, and Greg _is_ Hermione's best friend. And yeah, he remembers the time in the kitchen, but Harry had kind of thought it had been Hermione and _Ginny_ exchanging looks. And speaking of Ginny...

"Hey," Harry says, interrupting the conversation he was unaware Draco and Lavender were having. "Lavender, do you know why Ginny didn't come back?"

"No," she says, shaking her head. "I don't really know. She probably doesn't even know that we're all friends again, because she started hanging out with her _own_ year about a week after she ditched you guys. I really hate her, I think. I'm so glad she stopped hanging out with Ron and the rest of us. And their arguments? Ugh, I've never more appreciated being an only child."

Harry nods. "I don't like her either. Five plus a summer years of being hounded by her…honestly, I'm surprised I haven't been driven to insanity yet. Anyway, we really do need to get going. I mean, uh, you and Drake can finish your conversation first. Sorry I totally interrupted you."

"Thank you," Draco says, pulling Lavender's attention back to him. "As I was saying, I'm quite sure the last words are 'happily in dirt' not 'looking for work'. Honestly, it's about worms, not a man looking for a job."

"Wait a second," Harry says. "I interrupted a conversation about worms?"

"A _poem_ about worms, actually," Lavender says. "Now shush. I'm trying to prove how he's wrong."

"No. No, I am not. I'll summon my book where it's written down. I have some of her works."

"Fine then. Do it so we can wallow in your wrongness."

Draco pulls out his wand and says, "_Accio Distress, Death, Flames & Worms_!"

Harry snorts. "_What_ did I just hear?"

"Shush," Lavender says, "and you'll know."

A book suddenly flies over and into Draco's hands. He instantly starts to flip through it, and when he gets to whatever page he's trying to get to he smiles. "Ha," he says. "I'm right."

Lavender glares and grabs the book. "No! I was so sure! That's not fair!"

"It's _plenty_ fair."

"I still don't know what's going on," Harry says.

"Oh, _alright_," Lavender says, rolling her eyes at him. "We're discussing a poem."

"About worms?"

"Yes. Would you like to hear it?"

"I…suppose…so…"

"It's called 'We Live in Dirt'." Lavender clears her throat, and then reads:

/

_We are from the inside  
__The inside of the earth.  
We live happily in darkness.  
We live happily in dirt._

_We are from the darkest regions  
And we never fade away  
From the north and from the south—  
We're forever here to stay._

_And no matter how you pull at us  
And make us as a curse,  
We live happily in burrows—  
Happily in dirt._

/

Then she shuts the book and gives Harry a toothless but bright smile.

Harry blinks at her, his mouth slightly open. "Um. Where did you learn this?"

"We were raised on wizard things, Harry," Draco says. "You wouldn't understand."

Harry rolls his eyes. "Of course I wouldn't."

_**OoOoOoO**_

_One hour later…_

"There she is!" Draco says, jumping up from his seated position on top of his trunk. Harry is beside him, lying on the grass beside the walkway with his eyes closed, soaking in the last rays of October sun. It's getting cold out, even to Draco.

"Where?" Harry asks, not leaning up or opening his eyes.

"I have half a mind to kick you," Draco says, looking down at him. "Get up and _look_ if you want to know."

Harry sighs and does. When he sees what Draco means, his mouth drops open. "Merlin," he says, looking up at Draco. "Is that a car?"

"If by car you mean muggle automobile, then yes, it's a car. We're licensed to have one. Can you drive one? I can. I've been able to since fourth year."

Harry shakes his head. "No, I've never had to drive one, so I never learned. Is it fun?"

Draco shrugs. "Not exactly. It's sort of just a lot of work."

When mother gets to them, she stops, nearly running them over. The driver door swings open, and out comes his mother in an elegant fashion (but Draco, being her son, can tell that she's exhausted and about to trip over her own feet). She comes out in a large, velvet, dark purple dress with white frills on the hemline, the end of the sleeves, and around the neck. She's wearing a necklace Draco knows is secretly a Dark object that makes her unplottable, three rings (her wedding ring, a diamond that if pressed will turn into a knifelike thing for both self protection and to pick locks, and another Dark object that Draco can't place), and a broach that if activated will blind whoever looks at it until it's deactivated. He knows his mother only wears one pair of high heels with the dress she has, and both of the heel bits have "cases" over them that if pulled off reveal actual knives that can be pulled out of the shoe to make flats.

"Draco!" she says, holding her arms out to him.

Despite Draco being sixteen and it being "not cool", Draco launches across the space between them and hugs her happily. Not only does he not care less what the others think, he knows that she's going to fall over if somebody doesn't hold her up.

"I missed you," he says, and then whispers, "What's wrong?"

"Your father," she whispers back, "is unaware as to where I am going and that I am taking you with me. He knows that I will be gone, but not knowing where I am is hurting him. I did not sleep well."

"At least you get to see him, though, right?"

"I suppose that is good, but it is nearly worse now because he is on the run. That and the Dark Lord is over more often than not these days... We are almost out of tea, and the Death Eaters are prone to breaking my teacups. Idiots." She kisses Draco's forehead and leans away from him, putting a lot of her weight on the car door. "We will discuss any other questions you have later. You are bringing Pot—Harry, I assume? Snape has told me all about your relationship. But now I would like to meet him. The time in Madam Malkin's robe shop was not what I call a good first impression. I am hoping we could have a redo."

Draco turns around and finds Harry standing awkwardly on the grass. Motioning for him to come over to them, he steps out slightly so mother doesn't have to shift to say hello to him.

Harry walks slowly over to them, stopping at Draco's side. "Hello, Mrs. Malfoy," he says. "I never thanked you properly for...fixing me over the summer."

"Think nothing of it," she says, smiling warmly. "Anything for the great Boy Who Lived."

"Harry's good," he says. "The Boy Who Lived got old back in second year thanks to that years Defense against the Dark Arts professor."

"You may call me Narcissa, then," mother says. "It is nice to truly meet you, Harry. I apologize for my family's history to your life; I wish that I could change it."

"It's fine," Harry says. "Well, no, it's not fine...but I forgive you for it. I apologize myself for this, but I can't forgive your husband for it. Not now, at least. I hear that he and I have some sort of little...connection...so maybe it will come later."

Mother nods. "That is perfectly understandable. But we have a long drive ahead of us, so I suggest we get on our way. I will sit in the back seat, if you like. Draco will be driving."

Draco looks over at her. "I will? I mean, I will."

"That's nice of you," Harry says, "but I can sit in the back. I'm sure you'd like to catch up with your son."

"I was planning on just listening to the both of you talk, actually, but whatever you want." She turns to Draco. "I will see you in the car."

"I'll get the trunks," Draco says with a nod. As his mother walks around to the passenger side, Draco pulls out his wand, points it at the one trunk he's bringing, his Glimmer Bag, and Harry's trunk and says, "_Locomotor luggage_!" The three things jump into the air, and Draco has them follow him to the back of the car where the trunk of the car is. He opens it to see that it's been magically enlarged, so there's plenty of room for his and Harry's things to go inside. Once he's put them in he closes the trunk again, and then he walks over to Harry.

"This is going to be really awkward, isn't it?" Harry says, pursing his lips.

Draco shrugs. "Only if we make it that way. I'm not a very good driver, but mother drove all the way here, so I'm taking over. That also means that I might not hear you because I'm focusing on the road, so don't hurt me if I ask you to repeat yourself thirty times."

"Thirty's a bit much..."

"Alright, three times. What I'm saying, though, is that you should start a conversation with her. She's splendid, honestly, and she'd like it if you could pretend that you didn't hate her husband and ultimately have a difficult time with her. She did fix your head this summer, and I saw her face when she did it. She was honestly terrified of your pain; just imagine what she has to deal with at home with the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters running around. Just...pretend she's somebody else or something." Draco sighs and looks down at his hands. "I realize I'm asking a lot, but this car ride really will be one awkward blob if you just sit there in silence the entire time." He looks back up at Harry. "Ask her if she likes to read; that will take up at least half the ride. And then she'll ask you her own questions, little things, like what your Glimmer Bag colours is—because she knows that I wanted it with you in mind—and what your favorite class is. Ask her what her Glimmer Bag colour is. But don't just talk to _me_, alright?

"Oh, and don't ask how she's been doing or if she's been feeling alright or anything else along those lines. I'm not kidding about the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters running around; they're always over at the house and eating all of our food. Galleons don't grow in fountains, you know. We have to work for this stuff. And with father on the run, we don't have the same kind of income coming in. We don't actually need it, but she got a weekday secretary job at the Ministry, because we don't know how long father will be...well, supposed to be in Azkaban. Sure, our vault is huge and filled to bursting, but it's not going to last forever. Especially since the Dark Lord tends to dip into it every once in a while—which means a lot. And my aunt does too, which is annoying since she has her own and probably twice as much as we do.

"Anyway, that's all I have to say. Is that...are you okay with that? Pretending to like her, I mean? And asking her questions?"

Harry blinks at him for a moment, and then he smiles warmly. "Of course I'm okay with that. I know what it's like to have the Dark Lord's power hanging over you constantly. Granted, she knows it in a different way than I do, but she knows it to an even greater extent. I can't imagine trying to make her life worse. As weird as it is to say it, I really do like your mum."

Draco lets out a sigh of relief. "Thank Merlin. Thank you, 'Ry. I'm so glad I have you. Honestly, can you even imagine me introducing her to a girlfriend? I think she likes boys better. She's been around them so often she probably knows them better. Every girl I've ever seen her around I can see it in her eyes that she would rather be doing something else. Anyway, we've been out here a while. We better get in the car. But first..."

He steps forward and presses his lips softly to Harry's. Harry kisses him deeply back, and when they pull apart he says, "Good thinking. It's going to be a bit difficult even holding hands when I'm in the back seat."

"Oh, thanks for letting her have the front by the way. She didn't really want to give it to you."

Harry chuckles. "I assumed that."

They open their doors and get into the car, buckling up. Draco starts the car, and after looking around to make sure he doesn't kill anybody, he swivels around in a circle so that he's facing the Hogwarts gates instead of the castle.

"You know, Harry," Draco says as he presses down on the gas pedal. "I think, when I said that I'm not very good at driving, I lied."

A few minutes later, after Harry and mother are over the initial shock of Draco's extreme driving speed, he hears Harry take a deep breath in the back seat.

"So," he says, "Mrs. Mal—Narcissa, I mean. Sorry."

"Yes, Harry?" she says without turning away from the front window (because how uncomfortable would that be?).

"What's your Glimmer Bag colour?"

Draco sees her smile out of the corner of his eye. "Burnt orange," she gushes. And then Draco can't help but smile, too, because this conversation will probably last much longer than any conversation about reading.

_**OoOoOoO**_

As odd as it is for Harry to admit, he really does like Draco's mum. She's funny. Actually, no, she's downright _hilarious_. Her Glimmer Bag colour is burnt orange—and Harry can't think of a better one to describe her. He's also learned that she reads more than anybody else he knows (she's read _Hogwarts, A History_ four times since she was in third year, all of her required books at least twice, and since then she's read every book that Harry can say—including some of the muggle ones), and she really hates snakes ("But do not tell anybody," she had said with a smile, "because it is immensely awkward, my being from Slytherin.").

But now the ride is nearly over, because Draco's just announced that they're pulling into the half a mile long driveway.

And Harry's extremely confused.

There are hardly any trees at all, so Harry can see nearly everything about the house from here. It's only one story, on the edge of a beach with ocean water surging beside it, there's a thicker forest beside it that stretches beyond Harry's vision, and the house...it actually looks like a normal beach house, made of wood with a wooden deck and a small pathway leading down to the beach and a garage door for the car and a path leading into the forest.

This is not how Harry pictured the Malfoy Manor.

He pictured it like the Hogwarts castle, made of stone and old and huge and dark. He pictures a mote filled with alligators and a drawbridge and Death Eaters guarding the entrances. He pictured at least ten stories, and a giant stone wall surrounding the Manor, and a creature just like Fluffy the three headed hound from first year guarding the brake in the wall. He pictured the sun never shining down on it like it is now, and bats flying everywhere, and dead old trees lining the driveway. The only thing that he thought would be there is the forest, and it's not even the right trees; he pictures the woods being old and dead too, but they're regular giant redwoods and oaks and evergreen trees. And they are _giant_; Harry's mesmerized by their height that seems to disappear into the clouds above them.

It's nearly the complete opposite of what Harry thought it would be. There aren't even that many windows. Harry pictured a lot of windows. Really decorative windows, but instead of just stained glass they would be pictures of decapitated house elves and piles of dead muggles and probably one of Voldemort sitting on a throne. Although that would make it pretty obvious that they're working for the Dark Lord—not that it necessarily matters since everybody knows that Lucius is a Death Eater now, anyway.

But Harry's still just one big mass of confused Boy Who Lived.

_**OoOoOoO**_

"There is no way this is your Manor," Harry says, looking uncomfortably out of the back window.

Draco shifts his eyes away from the rearview mirror and back to the driveway as not to crash. "It's not," he says. "I'm only here a week out of the summer, but mother and father are here two or three weeks if there's no work to be done and no evil wizards binding us to our main home." (Despite how awkward it is, his mother chuckles in the passenger seat beside him.) Draco grins without looking at her, and then continues to Harry: "This is our beach house. Or, as you will recognize it, _Cat Tower No. 7_."

He practically _hears_ the click in Harry's brain as everything falls into place.

"Do not call it that, though," mother adds. "Just call it the Malfoy's beach house."

Draco glances up again to see Harry nod, but aside from that the Slytherin stays silent.

Draco finally gets to the end of the driveway and parks the muggle automobile, and he and mother immediately get out of the car and go back to the magically enlarged holding compartment.

"You just take what you can carry easily," Draco says to her. "I'll make Harry help me bring the rest of the stuff in."

"And while you do that, I will make sure the wizard and muggle repelling charms are up to the fullest."

"And that the windows are closed. You know I can't sleep well with the smell of the beach, and Harry gets cold really easily."

"I am sure you will sleep fine, dear."

Draco feels the heat well up in his face, and after a very un-mother-like look, mother walks away.

_I hope she doesn't mention this often_, Draco thinks, going around to Harry's door. _It's really quite awkward_.

When he opens the door to ask Harry why he's just sat in here, he ends up just widening his eyes a lot. Harry is white as a sheet and biting his nails.

"Harry!" Draco gasps. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"I saw something," Harry whispers. "Over there, by the trees."

Draco pulls out his wand, spins towards the small forest, and points the want at them in one swift movement.

"What did it look like?" he asks, his eyes scanning the edge of the woods.

"Kind of like a horse, a snake, and a spider all mashed together."

Draco lowers his wand and looks down at Harry. "Is that all?"

Harry looks up at him both in horror and disgust.

"Oh, no, I just mean that you shouldn't be scared of them. Those are our pets."

The look that then appears on Harry's face is priceless. But Draco doesn't know what else to say to reassure the green-eyed boy. There are three of said creatures living in the woods by the beach house, called a nobijies at birth, but a zirgs when grown. They have the bodies of a horse, and half to their legs as well, but once it gets to the first bend the legs break away into a mess of spider legs. They're born with four spider legs to each horse leg, and four more grow in on each within the first year. They also have the head of a horse, but they have eight eyes, a sack for making spider webs, slits for nostrils, the teeth and tongue of a snake, the tail of a snake (there's no mane at all), and holes in the top of its head for ears. And, while the neck and jaw look like a horse's on the outside, it works in the same way as a snakes, in the sense that they swallow their food whole (and by the time it gets to the stomach it's been broken down by intestinal acids and whatnot).

There are three zirgs in the woods because there's one for each member of Draco's immediate family: the male (Pampu) for Draco's father, the mare (Puckanje) for mother, and their son (Leve) for Draco himself. They don't exactly ride them since real horses are stronger and faster, but Draco's always loves to take care of them and climb trees in the forest with them (having spidery legs they can climb trees and build their nests there).

"They're your pets?" Harry asks at length.

Draco nods. "Want to meet them?"

Harry quickly shakes his head no.

"Aw, come on. They're nice, I promise. And since they're part snake you'll be able to use that Parseltongue skill of yours."

Harry chews on the inside of his cheeks for a few seconds, and finally he says, "How about later?"

Draco beams. "Brilliant. Now get out and let me borrow some of your magic to get the luggage into the house. I'll show you around the house, and then we'll bring our stuff to the bedroom. Sound good?"

Harry arches an eyebrow. "Why don't we just continue on to the bedroom with are luggage first?"

Draco grins. "Because I do not want to _leave_ the bedroom. If you catch my drift."

Harry's eyes darken with lust. "Uh, yeah, I've fallen _into_ your drift. Let's go."

Both boys head to the back of the car and, with their wands out, say the spell to get all of the trunks to follow them into the house. Draco leads them up the short pathway and inside of the house, where they set down all of the trunks right away.

"Wow," Harry says, looking around. "I thought the Weasley's _tent_ was cool."

"The Weasley's tent...?"

"What I mean is, as rich-muggle as the outside of this is, it's very rich-wizard on the inside. I mean it quite literally when I say that my uncles house would fit inside this front room."

"Yeah, the inside has three stories. Not near as big as the Manor, but that's a bit...unavailable to us as of late. Speaking of being overrun by the Dark Lord, don't say his name, alright? Not when inside the house at least. It's been tabooed in all of his Death Eater's homes."

Harry nods. "I'll make sure not to."

"Alright, anyway, take off your shoes. There are never any house elves here, so mother has to clean everything, so she makes us take our shoes off so we don't track dirt everywhere."

So Harry does, untying his laces and then setting the shoes lightly beside the high heels that are obviously Narcissa's.

"Speaking of mother," Draco continues, "I have no idea where she is. Let's go to the kitchen, because that's where the map is. Also I forgot which room is my favorite here...which is really quite sad since I was just here in August."

"Honestly?"

"Yes."

"And here I thought your memory was good."

"It is...when it comes to _you_."

Harry blushes. "Oh."

Draco smiles and rolls his eyes heavenward. "Come on, love. We still have trunks to unpack, cousins to meet, and costumes to hide." He turns around and heads off to the kitchen before Harry can ask any questions.

_I can't wait for tomorrow_, Draco thinks. _I get to see the cousins from father's side of the family, and eat junk food to my heart's content, and then I get to burn all said calories in the bedroom. Ah, how I love the holidays. I think, if it's safe, that I'll invite Harry over for Christmas as well._

_**OoOoOoO**_

The house ends up being generally small—or at least the parts that Harry and Draco are allowed into. The entire top floor is off-limits, partly because it's where the master bedroom is (for Draco's parents, though Lucius shouldn't be showing up because he's meant to be unaware to his family and Harry being here) and the other part that it holds so many Dark objects (what with Lucius being a Death Eater) that all together would probably be able to destroy Voldemort even at his height of power.

The second floor is the main floor, holding the front room that the Dursley's house would fit in, the kitchen and dining room (with a table to hold up to twenty people), two bathrooms, a small library (as Draco explained it, but it's big enough to have two rolling ladders), and four bedrooms, two with their own bathrooms and two of them connected by a bathroom. Draco's favorite bedroom is not the biggest (because that one has three single beds in it), but the next biggest (because it still has its own bathroom, but it also holds a king sized bed, and the main colours are white and _red_).

The bottom floor, then, has a large living room, a smaller kitchen, what's really a garage but Draco's calls "the stable" (even though the car goes there, not horses—or any other animal), a room full of instruments and the like, and a very long room that has a chessboard painted on the ground for wizard chess and some other games (basically it's just a rec room). Of course, most of the games include things just as Dark and dangerous as things Draco described as being on the top floor, so Harry isn't too psyched about playing any of them—except maybe chess, unless of course it involves being the pieces. Harry doesn't have very fond memories of that, thanks to first year. It's a good thing Greg and Hermione had been there, because if it had been Neville had not Greg they would have lost. Greg and Hermione together are unstoppable, no matter if it's planting Mandrakes or catching flying keys or capturing werewolves.

"And now to the bedroom!" Draco says. "We have much to do." He winks, and then Harry follows him back to the front of the house to get their trunks. Draco leads them down the hallway that leads to the two doors at the end; both of them are bedrooms, but only the one on the right does Harry care to enter.

They do, Draco first, going straight to the end of the bed and setting down the trunks, but Harry only gets a couple of steps in. Draco didn't want Harry to see the splendor of the bedroom right away, so he had only explained it to him. Sure, Harry could be mesmerized by rolling library ladders, but this room, even only in shades of red and white, is really quite beautiful—in its own bedroom-y kind of way.

The walls are white with a single red strip about six inches down from the ceiling, and stretching around the room. The rug is the type that you feel as though it was hand-stitched, at least an inch deep and soft and amazing even beneath stocking feet. The bed is facing the door and in the almost-middle of the room, so if Harry wants he can flip over the giant headboard and hang out behind the bed. The mattresses make the bed as high as Harry's waist, and (apart from small red embroidery along the top of the blanket and edge of the opening to the pillowcase) the entire bedspread is completely white—whiter than the first snow before it's been all stomped through. Harry has never had a greater urge to just start jumping on a bed. Actually, he's never had that urge before now.

There's a large, white wardrobe in one corner, a small desk with two drawers (of the same wood) on the left side of the bed, two huge fluffy white chairs facing each other with red buttons beside the wall farthest from the bed, and a single matching ottoman between the chairs. On the far side of the room is the door that leads to the bathroom, and from here Harry can tell that it's enormous, mostly in white but also with red tiles and towels and floor mats. On one of the chairs (and Harry decides not to comment on them), there's a stuffed bear in a red satin jumpsuit and a checkered orange and pink blanket.

"Wow," Harry says, finally walking over to Draco and their pile of luggage. "Its simplicity is really quite wonderful. As much as I'm opposed to the colour red and all it stands for—aside from blood, roses, and what it means in Glimmer Bag terms—and as innocent and kind of boring as white is...well, it's nice. I like it."

"Thanks," Draco says, blushing just a bit. "We bought this place when I was ten, and then right when I got out of first year I redecorated it with a few house elves." He gives a short bout of laughter. "Dobby was one of them, actually. He was the only one that wanted me to be there. All the others said this wasn't the work a Malfoy was supposed to do."

Harry grins. "That's my boy. I bed you'd..." Harry trails off when his eyes land on something else in the room. How he had missed it on the far side of the bed he had absolutely no clue at all, but he had managed it.

It's a harp. Not one of those little ones you hold in your arms, but one of the kinds that stand on the ground and almost above your head, where you sit beside it on a stool and drag your fingers down and across it by stretching your arms to their limits and with strings that would probably cut Harry's hands in two—rough, but the best quality. Almost like guitar strings, but not really. The strings are white, nearly silver, and remind Harry a lot of Draco's hair—and Lucius', as much as he hates to admit it.

The bars of the harp are gold, and the bar mainly attached to the base extends just a little higher than the rest and has a lion head at the top of it, complete with red rubies for eyes.

Without looking away from the instrument, Harry reaches his hand out to Draco and says, "Give me your hands."

When Draco doesn't give them to Harry right away, he looks over to see the blond blushing a deep pink and hiding his hands behind his back.

"I can't believe I never noticed," Harry says, stepping right up next to Draco and reaching around to take his hands. Draco lets Harry pull them out, and Harry turns them palm-up to see the fingertips. He rubs his hands over them, feeling how calloused they are. "I can't believe I've never asked about this before." He looks up Draco's face, but now the blond has his head turned away so their eyes don't meet—but his face is still pink. "Drake, look at me."

Instead Draco clamps his eyes tightly shut.

"Fine," Harry says, letting his hands go. "I'll just unpack my things."

"Oh al_right_," Draco says, opening his eyes with a sigh.

Harry grins inwardly. He knew that would work.

Harry steps back over to Draco and takes his hands again, and Draco looks down so that their eyes meet.

"You never mentioned you were musically inclined," Harry says.

Draco shrugs. "You never asked."

"Yes, but I'm sure there were many times it could have been brought up."

"Yeah, alright, but it wasn't. Now what?"

Harry's lips spread apart in a happy grin. "How long have you been playing for?"

"Since I was nine, though as soon as Hogwarts started I only had the summers to play."

"It's been a long time, then. And you play it regularly. That must mean you're good."

Draco bites his bottom lip. "I guess so. Mother says I am, and so does father, but he only listens from a different room."

"What do you play?"

"Oh, all sorts of stuff. I don't write any of my own stuff, if that's what you're wondering. Though I did figure out the Hogwarts anthem, if that counts."

"Wait a second," Harry says, squeezing Draco's hands for a second. "You said at the beginning of the year that you came up with a song for the Sorting Hat some time in your third year. Did you...uh...come up with something for _it_?"

Draco shakes his head no. "I only wrote the words for it. And really, it's just more like a poem. I suppose I could write something for it, but I'm not very good at making up my own music—hence why I haven't after nearly eight years of playing."

"I have an idea." Harry starts to pull Draco towards the harp. "Play something for me."

Draco plants his feet so firmly in the ground that Harry nearly trips backwards over his feet.

"How about not?" Draco says.

Harry frowns. "But why not?"

"Because you're my boyfriend and you'll make me nervous and then I'll mess up."

Harry rolls his eyes heavenward. "Honestly, it's supposed to become _less_ awkward once we're dating."

"I wouldn't do it if we were just friends, either."

"If you don't I won't go meet those...those things in the woods."

Draco looks devastated. "But I want you to meet them!"

"And I want you to play for me, but we don't always get what we want, do we?"

Draco looks torn between crying, giving in, and stomping out of the room. Eventually, though, he gives in.

"Don't watch for the first ten seconds," he says, pulling his wand out and pointing it to the ottoman. "After about that long I won't be as nervous, so you watching won't screw me up." He flicks his wand and the ottoman floats over to land beside the harp. "And then don't say anything until then, either, because I screw up when I'm nervous. I can sing with it when I play for mother because I've known her my entire life and I'm used to her, but you're...well, you're Harry. I'm very nervous." He shakes his head unhappily and sits down on the ottoman. Pushing up his sleeves he stretches his hands out to rest against the strings. "I haven't played since the morning before the Hogwarts Express," he says. "I have another one at the Manor that I didn't make."

Harry's jaw drops. "You mean you _made_ this? How?"

"Simple magic. Now shush, I'm concentrating so my first few notes aren't total screw-ups. Turn around."

Harry does, crawling onto the bed (and again just wants to jump up and down on it), facing away from Draco and the harp.

"What do you want me to play?" Draco asks from behind him.

"Whatever you want," Harry replies, wishing he could turn around and watch.

"How about the Hogwarts anthem, since you know it?"

"I'll also know if you mess up, then."

Draco swears under his breath. "Whatever, I'll do it anyway. Don't laugh at me if I do. You can tell me in a few years when I'm not nervous to play around you anymore."

Harry rolls his eyes. "Whatever you say, Drake."

"Alright, I'm playing now. Stop talking."

Harry doesn't reply. He just listens to Draco taking deep breaths, and then he hears the faint thrum of his fingers pressing against the strings for the first time.

And then he hears his fingers start to move, because the anthem starts to play, and even though he's not even able to watch his jaw drops and hangs open wide. Despite Draco's request—well, demand—Harry only manages to stay turned away for four seconds instead of ten.

He spins around and his eyes flash straight to Draco's hands. They're hardly touching the strings; just his fingertips, ghosting up and down and back and forth and every which direction. They're making music Harry would never have admitted to anybody that he enjoyed, but now that it's Draco…he can't imagine denying it.

The Hogwarts anthem floats through the room like feathers falling from high places, perfect in every note.

But the song is eventually over—but Draco doesn't stop. He just goes straight into another song that's unfamiliar to Harry, but beautiful nonetheless. Harry tears his eyes away from Draco's fingers and up to his face.

His blond has his forehead leaning against the bar that has the lion at the top, and his eyes are closed, and his lips are mouthing the words to whatever song it is that he's playing.

He's not even watching what he's doing. Harry could never do that.

Harry crawls off of the bed and walks slowly over to Draco. He sits on the floor beside him, legs crisscrossed and hands folded.

Draco's eyes flutter open to slits, and he looks over at Harry without moving his head.

"Hey," he whispers, barely loud enough to be heard over the harp that he continues to play. "You haven't laughed yet."

"What, you want me to?" Harry asks, tilting his head to the right. "Because I can, if that's your ultimate goal in life."

Draco rolls his eyes in the slits they are and then closes them again. "Thanks but no thanks. How many times have I messed up so far?"

"No times at all."

Draco's mouth turns up in a ghost of a smile. "Good. I sort of zone out when I play sometimes. Have you ever wondered how house elves choose their mates? Maybe it's the size of their eyeballs…"

Harry blinks at Draco, giving him a _you're crazy_ kind of look. "I don't know," he says, "but I certainly know how I chose mine."

Draco opens his eyes to slits again and smiles at Harry. "Let's hear it, then. How did you come to first start crushing on me? Mr. defiant child who thought sleeping kittens weren't cute… Am I really just _that_ attractive?"

"Uh, yeah," Harry says somewhat awkwardly. "And loyal, or gutsy, or whatever you want to call it."

Draco cocks and eyebrow. "Gutsy?"

"Well yeah. Remember when we just met on the train, and you rejected my hand?"

Draco closes his eyes. "I hope you're not going to hold that against me. I had friends to keep, you know."

"That you lost for a while anyway," Harry mutters, and then says louder, "No, I wasn't planning on it. But did you ever wonder why I wanted to take your hand in the first place? Did you ever wonder if it was really to just get you away from the Weas—from Ron?

"Of course."

"Because I wanted you. Pretty legit for an eleven year old, eh? Don't answer that question. And then you stood up against me, too. At first it just annoyed me, but later it intrigued me. Obviously you weren't just some pushover, not to be bought by my title of being the Boy Who Lived, and loyal to even those you had just met."

Draco giggles, his eyes still closed. "How did you know I hadn't met them before then? You didn't even know you were a wizard until your most recent birthday."

"Because you hesitated. I saw that much in your eyes. You wanted me, too, but you couldn't act on it."

"Then…I wasn't really that loyal…if I hesitated…"

Harry blinks at Draco. "Well, yeah, I guess you're right. But still."

Draco's eyes open halfway. "It was my being attractive?" He gives a tired chuckle. "Funny, because it's pretty much the same for me. That and your eyes." He closes his. "I really like green eyes…" He says it breathily, and it makes Harry want to kiss him. So he does, but just on his temple.

"Hey," he whispers. "You're beautiful, you know that?"

"Am I?" Draco asks with a smile, continuing to play his music and not opening his eyes.

"The most beautiful. Your platinum blond hair and your silvery eyes and your pale skin—sorry, it's true, it's like white paper"—Draco grins; he knows it's true—"and I love your hands and your lips and your legs and, as much as I hate to admit it, I love your sense of fashion."

For the first time since beginning his harp songs (he's on his third one, now), Draco opens his eyes all the way. "I love how you call me Drake," he says. "I hate nicknames, and I hate _it_, but somehow when it's coming from you its okay. Don't call me Dray, though, or I'll hurt you. I was contemplating murder when 'Cent did."

Harry grins. "I thought it was hilarious."

Draco narrows his eyes. Lifting his head away from the golden bar, he says, "Of course you did. But how do you feel about being nicknamed after that fuzzy, stringy stuff on a scalp? Really, if I call you Hair'… It'd be downright embarrass—oh sweet Merlin!"

All at once Draco leaps up and away from his harp, the music stopping, and runs over to the door—which he slams shut _hard_.

Harry's jaw drops. "That was open the entire time?" he asks.

Draco nods. "Thankfully these walls are soundproof—as is the door—so it muffled most of the sound. Not that our voices could be heard hardly over the harp outside of the door. Although, if mother did hear, because she's the only other in the house, it's positively devastating. Our conversation about my childhood, playing the harp, and the papery colour of my skin is so awkward to talk about in front of mother when she earlier made a joke about us sleeping together. I'm not sure if she meant it literally or figuratively, though..."

"Speaking of sleeping together…" Harry says (keeping his thoughts on the fact that he cannot picture Narcissa making a sex joke, _especially_ about her son). "That bed of yours is really comfortable."

Draco grins. "I know it is. I've slept in it."

"Yes, too bad it's got some red on it…"

"Oh, don't ruin the moment and get over here."

"No," Harry says, getting into a standing position. "_You_ come _here_."

Harry hadn't noticed, but Draco had slowly been moving closer to him, so at Harry's words he has his arms around the other boy before Harry even knows what's happening.

"If you insist," Draco says, burying his face in Harry's neck.

In reply, Harry pulls his neck away and pulls Draco's lips to his. Draco gives him a kiss back that knocks Harry off his feet; literally, the next thing Harry knows he's bent over at his waist with his back on the bed—with Draco's knee pressed tightly between his legs.

"Wow," Harry says as Draco buries his face in his neck again. "We have waited way too long for this."

"Yeah," Draco breathes, snaking his tongue out and pressing it to the skin. "We've been very busy lately." _Lick_. "All those people hatin' on us." _Nibble_. "All that homework and drama with our friends." _Bite_. "Not even time for a blowjob in there. Just making out in empty classrooms. And hand-jobs. Not near as fun." _Suck_.

Harry's biting his bottom lip and tangling his fingers through the fine strands of Draco's hair. "Hey," he gets himself to say. "I just realized. Do we have any, er, lube?"

"Mmhmm," Draco hums, continuing to suck on the skin of his neck.

"Where is it?"

Draco sighs and pulls his mouth away from Harry's neck. "Harry, I'm trying to give you a hicky to embarrass you in front of mother. So shush and I'll get there, okay?"

Harry feels the heat of a blush rise up in his face. "Sorry."

"Oh, never mind. Get on the bed. This isn't my sick fantasy, but it's a fantasy, and I do not want to wait for it anymore."

Harry crawls backwards onto the bed, Draco crawling with him, nearly over him. When Harry's head hits the headboard (thankfully painlessly) Draco keeps crawling over him, stopping when his knees are straddling Harry's and his hands are resting against Harry's chest.

Draco stares down at him, his eyes like melting silver orbs.

"Guess what," Draco whispers, leaning down to hold his lips just above Harry's.

"I'm wearing too many clothes?" Harry asks with a grin.

Draco grins too. "Yes, but not what I was going to say."

"Then what, pray tell, were you _going_ to say?"

Draco presses a long, deep kiss to Harry's lips. "I love you," he whispers.

Harry smiles. "Love you too, Drake."

"But about those clothes…"

Harry doesn't even have time to reply. Draco is already kissing him again, and his hands are undoing the clasps of Harry's cloak and the buttons of his shirt and—

And then the door of the bedroom slams wide open.

Harry has never moved faster, and he's pretty sure Draco never has either. Draco is sitting beside him and Harry is under the blankets to cover his naked chest in record time.

"Oh, hello boys," Narcissa says with a bright smile. "I did not mean to interrupt such things."

"_MOTHER_," Draco screeches. "Remember all those lessons you gave me on _knocking_?"

"Oh, Draco, you will be fine. I came in to stop you, anyway. Your cousins will be here in thirty minutes, and I do not think you want your first time to be rushed. Oh, do not look at me like that; I know perfectly well what you were about to do. I helped get you conceived, did I not? I know how it works." And then she's gone again, the door closing quietly behind her.

_**OoOoOoO**_

Unpacking was, honestly, just a little awkward.

Draco couldn't stop just watching Harry, and whenever Harry noticed, the feeling of deep longing welled up in Draco and he just wanted to launch across the room and ravish Harry on the floor. But he couldn't do that, so his raging hard-on just sat there—and he's sure Harry was feeling the same way, because he could see a bulge in his pants as well.

Now the doorbell is ringing, and mother is the one going to the door. Draco and Harry are standing in the kitchen (fully dressed, to their dismay), snacking on the plate of cakes, cookies, and crackers mainly for the cousins.

"So the girl is named Felicia Cea, nine years old, and smarter than she looks?" Harry asks, repeating what Draco had told him earlier.

"Right," Draco says. "And the boy?"

"Uh, named Remus Cea—which is awesome. Honestly, I can't wait to tell Lupin, his name isn't common at all. Anyway, he's three in two months, and he's blind in his left eye and losing hearing in his left ear. Basically his left side is slowly losing its senses... Damn, that sucks, aren't there spells to fix that?"

"Yes, but they won't work by the time he turns four because it'll have taken over too much, and his mother is a muggle and refuses to let it happen."

"Yeah, yeah. Merlin, though, what kind of a mother is she? And aren't Malfoy's _proud_ of being pureblood? Why is their mother a muggle?"

"There's an exception to everything."

"Then why are they _here_?"

"Because they're from my father's side of the family, and that entire side has had terrible problems since the dawn of time (not that my mother's side hasn't) and we're trying to make sure they become Death Eater's as well. Little does the Dark Lord know that father made it obvious only to mother and I that he instead wants us to do the opposite. So they fear nearly everything Dark now."

"Yes, funny how that works…"

And then Draco hears the pitter-patter of little children feet. He turns around just in time to catch Felicia as she leaps into the air at him, and to keep his legs steady as Remus tries to crawl up him by his pants.

"Draaay!" his cousins say together.

Draco ignores Harry's tiny gasp behind him at what his cousins call him.

"Hey, guys!" Draco says with a bright smile, plopping down on the ground so they can crawl on him easier. As annoying as they are, he loves them to death, and he would never do anything in the world to hurt them or discourage them from calling him…Dray.

"Are you guys excited to go Trick-or-Treating?" Draco asks, pulling both children into his lap and hugging them tightly. "We'll be surrounded by people like mommy, and probably some people like daddy pretending to be like mommy, and you can't use any magic because we'll be in a muggle town…but are you excited anyway?"

"YEAAH!" they scream. "You taught us to _love_ dress-up," Felicia says, and Remus adds, "An we do, we do!"

"So instead of liking Dark things," Harry says, stepping around to stand in front of Draco and the kids, "you taught them that Halloween should be their favorite holiday?"

"Who are _you_?" Felicia asks him.

"Wow," Harry says, sitting down on the floor with them. "Fashion, but not the Boy Who Lived?"

"Hair Potty?" Remus says. "Boy Who Live?"

Draco bursts into laughter at Harry's face at being called _Hair Potty_.

"Everyone knows about you, 'Ry," Draco says. "Your bangs are covering up your scar."

At this, Felicia crawls off of Draco and over to Harry. She reaches up and moves his bangs, and when the lightning bolt is revealed both children gasp.

"Hair Potty!" Remus giggles.

"My friends are going to be _so _jealous," Felicia says.

Harry looks up at Draco and says, "I thought I was done with this in fourth year."

Draco rolls his eyes. "Oh, shut up and live with it. You're good at that. Living, I mean. So do it."

"But…" Harry says, looking down at Felicia, who's still sitting in his lap. He looks back up at Draco and says, "I'm not…good with kids. They scare me."

"Do we, now?" Felicia says, eyeing Harry in an almost evil way. "You'll be happy to know that I'm going to be a Japanese pixie, then. _Hide your soul, Harry Potter_." She crawls off of Harry's lap and skips over to the plate of snacks.

Harry stares after her in horror, and when he looks over at Draco, Draco can't help but burst into laughter again.

"And what are you going to be, Remmy?" Draco asks the two-year-old in his lap.

"Lion!" Remus says, twisting around to look up at Draco. "RAAWWRR!"

Draco smiles. "Good choice. Cats are good, and lions are even better. Go eat with your sister."

Remus clambers onto the floor, stands up, and then walks happily over to Felicia, who instantly takes the plate off the higher counter and sits down with it so he can reach it. Draco also taught them to _pretend_ they liked Dark things (though Remus hadn't really gotten the point of that yet) and that your strength is in your family. He knows that Felicia will always be there to protect Remus, and once Remus is grown and most likely bigger than Felicia he can protect her as well.

When Draco turns back to Harry, his Slytherin is sitting right in front of him. He had been a few feet away when he first sat down, but no longer.

"She's going to kill us," Harry says, obviously referring to Felicia.

"We won't have any privacy, either," Draco says. "But she already knows that I don't like girls. She's unaware that we're going out, but what I'm saying is that it doesn't matter if we kiss or hold hands in front of her."

"What about Remus?"

Draco shrugs. "He's two. He won't be a problem."

At that time, as if on cue, Remus bursts into a loud fit of roars, and when Draco and Harry snap their heads over to look at him he's stomping all over the plate of snacks.

"Well," Draco says, looking back over at Harry. "He won't be a problem to our relationship, anyway."

_**OoOoOoO**_

_Not very long later at all..._

When mother came back in, she announced that it was time for Remus and Felicia to be put to bed, it being nine o'clock and therefore weird that Remus hadn't fallen asleep anyway. And then Felicia threw a fit that Draco and Harry were staying up later, so mother asked them to go into their rooms, too. They agreed to, but Draco said that he would put them to bed first so mother could go to bed right away.

Draco can't remember the last time he saw his mother look so happy about him doing something so simple for her.

And that's where they are now: the bedroom with three single beds, because it's the only one that can be locked from the outside. Remus and Felicia are sleeping in different beds, and Felicia's stuffed mermaid Patsy is asleep in the third.

Harry is leaning coolly against the door, waiting for Draco to finish tucking the kids in. Just as he's about to turn around and go to his and Harry's room, Felicia says, "Read us to bed, Dray!"

Draco's shoulders slump. He turns around to Harry and asks with his eyes if it's alright, and in reply Harry walks across the room, sits on the edge of Remus' bed, and says, "Read away, Dray."

Draco groans. "'Ry, please don't. I can barely stand it when they do it."

Harry chuckles. "Sorry, sorry, I had to at least once."

Rolling his eyes, Draco pulls his wand out and summons _The Drowsy Hours_, because of course he brought it with him.

He settles onto Felicia's bed, and she crawls over to him and cuddles up in his lap. And, with his peripheral vision, he sees Remus do the same to Harry. Harry looks like he hasn't a clue what to do for a second, but then he sighs and wraps his arms around Draco's little cousin.

"Everybody ready?" Draco asks, holding wrapping his arms around Felicia so he can turn the pages better.

"Ready!" the three other inhabitants of the room say, though Remus' sounded more like "weddy".

"Good then." He flips open the book to a random page, and begins to read: "'The Moon's the North Wind's Cooky (What the Little Girl Said)' by Vachel Lindsay."

/

_The Moon's the North Wind's cooky,  
He bites it day by day,  
Until there's but a rim of scraps  
That crumble all away.  
The South Wind is a baker.  
He kneads clouds in his den,  
And bakes a crisp new moon that...greedy...  
North...Wind...eats...again!_

/

Even in the simplicity and childlike way the poem is written, Draco comes up with his own interpretation in his head. The moon is the Ministry, the North Wind is the Dark Lord, and the South Wind is Dumbledore. While Dumbledore is trying to get the Ministry still going so it doesn't collapse, the Dark Lord keeps coming along and doing something to make it collapse anyway. And it's only a matter of time before Dumbledore can't help them anymore... Draco knows the Dark Lord's plans. He knows what he almost had to do. He knows—no, he can't think about it.

He flips the pages until he comes to one that he couldn't possible make any interpretations out of. "'The Gentle Giant" by Dennis Lee!" he says brightly.

/

_Every night  
At twelve o'clock,  
The gentle giant  
Takes a walk;  
With a cry cried high  
And a call called low,  
The gentle giant walks below_

_As he walks,  
He cries, he calls:_

"_Bad men, boogie men,  
Bully men, shoo!  
No one in the neighborhood  
Is scared of you.  
The children are asleep,  
And the parents are too:  
Bad men, boogie men,  
Bully men, shoo!"_

/

He can sort of see all of the "bad men, boogie men, and bully men" as the Dark Lord's Death Eater's, Dumbledore as the gentle giant, and Ministry as the children and parents, but that's as far as he gets. Thank Merlin, too, for his sanity is not doing so well.

He flips more pages until he comes to a good last one to read, because everyone is quite in a tired kind of way now, and Remus is beginning to nod off. "'Wynken, Blynken, and Nod' by Eugene Field."

/

_Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night  
Sailed off in a wooden shoe,—  
Sailed a river of crystal light  
Into a sea of dew.  
"Where are you going, and what do you wish?"  
The old moon asked the three.  
"We have come to fish for the herring fish  
That live in this beautiful sea;  
Nets of silver and gold have we!"  
Said Wynken,  
Blynken,  
And Nod._

_The old moon laughed and sang a song,  
As they rocked in the wooden shoe;  
And the wind that sped them all night long  
Ruffled the waves of dew.  
The little stars were the herring fish  
That lived in that beautiful sea—  
"Now cast your nets wherever you wish,—  
Never afraid our we!"  
So cried the stars to the fishermen three,  
Wynken,  
Blynken,  
And Nod._

_All night long their nets they threw  
To the stars in the twinkling foam,—  
Then down from the skies came the wooden shoe,  
Bringing the fishermen home:  
'Twas all so pretty a sail, it seemed  
As if it could not be;  
And some folk thought 'twas was a dream they'd dreamed  
Of sailing that beautiful sea;  
But I shall name you the fishermen three:  
Wynken,  
Blynken,  
And Nod._

_Wynken and Blynken are two little eyes,  
And Nod is a little head,  
And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies  
Is a wee one's trundle-bed;  
So shut your eyes while Mother sings  
Of wonderful sights to be,  
And you shall see the beautiful things  
As you rock in the misty sea  
Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three:—  
Wynken,  
Blynken,  
And Nod._

/

Draco is Wynken, Harry is Blynken, and mother is Nod. The fish are their routes of escape from the Dark Lord, and they're not afraid of them, but they are trying to escape from them. The moon is what they're running from, laughing at them and singing annoying songs and asking where they're going.

"We're going away," Wynken would say. "I'm taking Nod with me and we're going to live away from you and never come back."

"Oh, but what about Blynken?" the moon would ask. "He can't go with you. He's got to be the North Wind to me. The prophecy says so; the prophecy says neither can live while the other survives. You know that, Wynken... We were told when only Blynken and the South Wind are supposed to know."

And then Wynken would cry, because he couldn't leave Blynken, but he couldn't leave Nod, either. So he would have to stay, and he would have to keep trying to catch the herring fish, and he would try and try and try, but never would he catch even a single one.

Draco shakes his head back and forth to get the depressing thoughts out of his head.

_I really need to get some sleep_, he thinks. _My thoughts are so grim_.

Draco looks up at Harry with a warm smile to see Harry smiling in the same way—but not at him. He's looking down at Remus, lightly stroking his fingers over the sleeping boy's hair.

"Into bed now, Felicia," Draco whispers to the girl. She's still awake, so she does what he says. He gets off the bed and tucks her in, and after kissing her on the forehead says, "Sleep well, love."

When he turns around to help Harry put Remus into bed, Harry's already done it, and he's staring up at Draco with that same warm smile.

"Come on," Draco says, motioning with his head for Harry to follow.

When they get out of the room, Harry goes ahead of Draco to their own room, because Draco has to lock the room so Felicia doesn't try and get out.

When he walks into the room he yanks his shirt over his head and throws it onto the floor. "Wow," he says, rubbing his hands over his face. "It is really hot in here."

"I thought so too."

Draco turns to the sound of Harry's voice to find his Slytherin already in the bed. Well, not _in_ it. Just lying on his back on top of it in just his pants.

Draco closes the door behind him and puts a locking charm on it, and then pulls off his socks and throws them on one of the chairs.

"Would it be weird if we actually went to sleep right now?" Harry asks as Draco crawls onto the bed and lies down beside him. "I can't remember the last time I went to bed before eleven."

"Me neither," Draco says. "Do you want to? Just go to sleep, I mean."

"Uh..."

"We still have tomorrow. I'd rather do it when we're not dead tired, if you know what I mean."

Harry chuckles. "Yes, I agree. It would be extremely awkward if we…well, fell asleep during it all."

"Extremely."

The two boys crawl up farther and pull the blankets back, and then start taking off their pants at the same time.

"Hey, I have an idea," Harry says, taking handful of Draco's underwear. "How about we ditch these blasted things? They'll end up coming off anyway, knowing us."

Draco grins. "Good plan."

They do, throwing them across the room and into the floor, but instead of crawling underneath the covers Draco finds himself on his back and Harry's mouth around his cock. Two months of nothing but kisses and hand-jobs really turn a guy into a wreck.

_Lick. Pump. Suck. Bob. Suck. Pump. Lick. Swirl._

Draco comes into Harry's mouth in one great burst, gripping at the sheets around him and saying Harry's name louder than should be legal—but he's glad it's legal, or he'd be in trouble for the rest of his life.

"Hey, 'Ry?" Draco says tiredly into Harry's ear as his body is lying underneath the Slytherin's.

"Mmm?" Harry says, pressing a kiss to Draco's lips.

"You want one? I haven't given one to you yet."

Harry chuckles. "Naw, I can wait till tomorrow."

"You sure? You're missin' out."

"Drake, love, you'll just fall asleep. You don't even have your eyes open now."

"Oh, alright, if you insist."

"I do." Harry rolls off of him and pushes them into a spooning position. "Go to sleep, Drake."

"Nighty night, 'Ry. Love you."

"Love you too, Dray."

Draco's too tired to swing his fist around and punch Harry in the face.

* * *

References: 1. _Nobijies_ is Latvian for "scared".  
2. _Zirgs_ is Latvian for "horse".  
3. _Pampu_ is Swahili for "pump".  
4. _Puckanje_ is Croatian for "snap".  
5. _Leve_ is Haitian Creole for "lift".

6. Speaking of nobijies and zirgs, I totally made those up. So if they seem completely implausible, it's only because _I'm_ completely implausible.

7. "Have you ever wondered how house elves choose their mates? Maybe it's the size of their eyeballs…" Definitely stole this from the Drarry fanfic "Underwater Lights". A beautiful read, and I suggest that you find it to read it as well! It's one of the classics, really :)

8. The poetry book "Distress, Death, Flames & Worms" isn't by anybody. I made it up, which means I also wrote the poems from it. Hence why this chapter is dedicated to creativity in poetry/Dr. Seuss :P

/

A/N: If you haven't noticed yet, I like using other languages—especially the ones that nobody who reads this would probably know. Haha.


	18. Year 6, Part VIII

**Year Six, Part VIII: Fire Breathers, House Pets, Jungle Kings, and Soul Suckers**

Beginning chapter A/N's: This chapter is dedicated to things that don't exist that I really wish did.

* * *

_The next morning..._

When Harry wakes up, the first thing he notices is that there's something hot, wet, and _moving_ against his cock. And that's pretty much it.

The sheets are still pulled up to his chest, but he sees it moving up and down as the head beneath them pumps him hard.

Harry tilts his head back and moans. He spreads his legs more and arches his back. His hands grip tightly to the sheets, but as he nears release he pushes them under the blankets and into the fine strands of hair on the head of his lover.

And then he gets there, to the very top, and he says louder than intelligent in the same house as his boyfriends mum resides in: "_Dr—Dray—Drake—DRACO_!" And he keeps going, erupting into his Gryffindor's mouth. And he goes and goes and goes, moaning and whimpering all the while until he's completely spent.

Draco gives him one last suck before crawling back up and collapsing onto Harry, his lips pressing hard and deep to his.

When he pulls away, Harry smiles warmly at the silver eyes looking down at him. "I forgot how funny it really does taste," he says.

"You're right, though," Draco says. "It does taste a lot better with your lips around your lovers cock."

"Speaking of lover," Harry says, reaching his arms up and wrapping them tightly around Draco's back. "Wow. That was...that was intense. You said you've never given anyone a blowjob, so that was your first time ever?"

Draco bites his bottom lip in an awkward way and nods.

"Again, wow. I wouldn't trade you for the world. That was bloody brilliant—especially for your first time. You're way better at this than I was."

Draco giggles lightly. "That awkward moment when you're a natural at giving blowjobs."

Harry rolls his eyes heavenward—well, headboard-ward, since he's on his back—and smiles. "I love you."

Draco smiles and kisses him hard. "I love you too."

"Let's never move," Harry says, turning sideways so that Draco's on his side, too. "Not ever again. We'll stay in this bed forever and summon glasses of water and lube and food. And chocolate, because I think making you into a sundae would be amazing."

Draco laughs. "That's a brilliant idea, but I don't think summoning the bathroom and shower would work very well. And speaking of showers, I say we go spend the rest of our lives in there instead. We're both covered in our spunk."

"Splendid idea."

Harry and Draco both crawl lazily out of bed, but Harry is immediately distracted by the lovely thing hanging between Draco's legs.

"Oh _hey_," Harry says, making it obvious to Draco that he's huge this morning.

"Hey to you too," Draco says, striking a ridiculously provocative pose. He winks, and Harry's not sure if he should fly across the room and ravish him on the floor or laugh.

So he laughs and takes Draco's hand. "Come on," he says. "You need tending to."

"Actually, as much as I'd love to be tended to, there's something I'd much rather do to _you_."

"Oh?" Harry says as they stop in the middle of the bathroom. "And what, pray tell, is this idea of yours?"

"It requires the bathtub, bubble bath, and Pansy's cat."

Harry cocks an eyebrow. "Spirit?"

Draco blinks at him. "I was kidding, but, what I want to know is, how you knew its name..."

Harry purses his lips. "Not sure, actually. You probably said it in passing and I just remembered it for who knows what reasons. Brains are mysterious things."

Draco raises and then lowers right away his eyebrows in acknowledgement. "Anyway, the real third thing is vanilla scented candles. Do you like the smell of vanilla? Because if not I can choose something else."

"No, vanilla's good. Why, though?"

Draco shrugs. "Why not?" And then he grins, turns around, and heads over to the bathtub.

Of course, all Harry can do is stare at Draco's arse as he bends over to turn on the faucets.

"'Ry," Draco says without turning around. "Stop staring at my arse and fetch two of the light blue towels from the closet by the shower, would you?"

"Whatever you say, dear," Harry says, looking around the bathroom. When he finds said closet, he crosses the room and heads inside to get the light blue towels.

_Yeesh, he's picky_, Harry thinks. _Not red or green, but_ light blue. _Why, of all the Gryffindor's to fall in love with, did I fall for _him?

The closet ends up being huge, so it actually takes Harry a few moments to find the towels that Draco wants. He walks back out with the towels in hand, and Draco is sitting on the edge of the bathtub with three big candles and the tip of his wand on fire to light them.

"Where do you want these?" Harry asks.

Draco looks over at him with just his eyes. "Uh, just set them on the floor right there. It's clean; I cleaned it myself after using it for a week. Except dust it's fine."

Harry refrains from making a joke on the fact that Draco cleaned it and drops the towels into a neat pile.

"Why are there three sinks?" he asks after looking around the room.

"Why not?" Draco says, setting down the last candle and blowing the fire out on the tip of his wand. "You never know what you'll need." He stands up and turns around to face the rising water. "Sometimes I hate how big this thing is. It's like filling the prefects' bathtub. Takes forever since it's more like filling a pool. What temperature do you like your water?"

"Hot," Harry says right away. "Nearly burning. Like a hot tub."

Draco raises an eyebrow. "Like a hot tub? Wouldn't it already be a hot tub if the water in the tub was hot?"

"No, I mean—oh, never mind. It's a muggle thing. I like my water hot."

"Good," Draco says with a smile. "Because I do too, and it's already nearly boiling and I'd have to drain some to make it just a warm temperature. What scent of bubble bath do you want?"

"You mean, like, so the surface of the water will be covered in bubbles?"

"No, so the walls will be. Honestly, Harry, what did you do in your childhood if you didn't have bubble bath?"

"Uh, cleaned myself in just water?"

Draco shakes his head. "How dull. How about watermelon?"

"Splendid idea."

"Good, because the only other one I have here is grape, and I'm not in the mood for grapes." He summons a bottle of pink stuff and dumps some of it near where the faucet is pouring into. Moments later there are watermelon scented bubbles flying everywhere.

"And I have green apple conditioner, and more watermelon shampoo," Draco continues, summoning those as well. Harry doesn't know where they're coming from, because there was nothing but towels in the closet by the shower.

"I've never used anything green apple before," Harry says. "What does it smell like?"

Draco blinks at him. "Green apples?"

Harry blinks back. "Sorry, don't mind me, just being an idiot over here."

"Speaking of idiots, I bet you can't guess what I'm planning to do to you."

Harry stares scrutinizingly at Draco. They're not going to have sex, and he's not going to get a blowjob, and Draco looks too happy to be doing something as simple as cuddling. So it must be...

"You're going to play with my hair, aren't you?" Harry says, pushing his fingers into it and keeping it there so it sticks up everywhere.

Draco frowns. "You're no fun. Yes, I'm going to play with your hair. Also, afterwards, would you kill me if I gave you a haircut?"

The hand in Harry's hair tightens. "Uh, I'm not sure. I don't know if you're good at it or not."

"If it makes you feel any better, I've cut mothers hair for the past four years."

Harry's hand loosens. "Since you were twelve, then?"

He nods. "I tried to get father to let me cut his hair one time, but he cuts his own hair. If you hadn't noticed, at least." He wrinkles his nose in disgust. "He does it fine, I guess, but it's kind of hard when you can't see the back of your head as well as a second person would. Anyway, I know your hair is untidy no matter how short it gets, so I'd just give it a trim. Like, after the bath and after we're dressed and stuff. Is that okay?"

Harry shrugs. "Sure, I guess so. I've never cared about cutting my hair _because_ it's untidy no matter what."

"Okay, good, I'll get the stuff ready after we're done in the bath—oh sweet Merlin!" He whirls around and turns the faucets off just as the water is about to overflow the rim. "That was close. I'll have to drain some now. What a waste of water." He opens the plug for about fifteen seconds. "Alright, that's good. Anything you request in your bath aside from it being hot and the mountain of bubble bath I already put in?"

"Uh, no. I'm used to tiny showers and no extra scents. This is great."

Draco smiles. "Good. You first, then. I might need to drain the water some more."

Harry crawls lightly into the bathtub (lightly as not to trip and also not to splash everywhere). The water is indeed like a hot tub, plus bubbles that completely envelope his chest and below. The water doesn't need to be drained at all, so Draco crawls in and right over to Harry, sitting on his lap with his legs straddling his waist.

"I would suck you off again," Draco says, leaning forward so his lips over just above Harry's, "but I can't breathe underwater, and I don't want to get spunk in my hair when I'm meant to be washing it, not making it sticky."

Harry chuckles. "We can make mustaches out of bubble bath instead." With that, Harry grabs a handful of bubbles and places it between is upper lip and nose. "See? Mustache."

Draco smiles and shakes his head. "No, blob of bubbles. But thanks for playing."

"I tried, therefore no one should criticize me," Harry says, twisting his head down to dunk his face into the water to wash away the bubbles.

When he comes back up, Draco starts to laugh.

"What?" Harry asks.

"Just, uh, dunk your whole head underwater, alright?" Draco says, pushing himself away from Harry and floating away until he hits the other side of the tub. "You look...funny that way."

Harry shrugs and does so, and when he comes back out Draco is putting some of the watermelon shampoo into his hand.

"I'm going to do my hair first," he says, "so I don't have to do it after I've done yours." And he does so, scratching in the shampoo and rubbing in the conditioner. Harry just sits in the water, soaking up its warmth, while he does. He closes his eyes for a while, but he ends up sinking too low and choking on bubbles ("Don't hurt yourself, love," is the only thing Draco says), so he keeps them open the rest of the time. Draco ends up summoning about three more bottles for his hair, so Harry takes the ones he's done with and reads the labels.

Aside from the first two hair things he had, he has something that keeps the colour of his hair the same (not that he dyes it, but just his natural hair colour, so that it doesn't darken or something), something that keeps dandruff away by lotioning the scalp, and something in a completely different language. And not even something like Spanish or French; it's like Chinese or Japanese because it's in symbols that Harry hasn't a clue what they are.

"It's Persian," Draco says just before he dunks his head underneath the water. When he comes back up he continues, "Or Arabic. I can't remember. All I know is that it keeps the smell of watermelons in my hair for up to a week so I don't have to use it every time I wash myself."

Harry tosses it to him, and Draco catches it with ease. He's done with that pretty fast, and then he gives Harry the kind of look that would usually make him run for his life.

"Turn around," Draco says.

Harry sighs and does. "What are you going to do to me?"

"You've felt my hair before. You know how fine and soft and perfect it always is, right?"

"Of course."

"I'm just going to do the same thing to your hair that I do to my hair. It won't make much of a difference since I'm only doing it once, but if you do it every time you bathe it makes it amazing. But anyway! Dunk your head in the water again so I don't have to work with semi-dry hair."

"Yes, your majesty."

"Oh shush. You should just be glad I didn't get you back for calling me Dray last night. Instead I woke up and decided to pretend it didn't happen."

Harry grins. "And thank Merlin for that."

_**XxX**_

_Longer than Harry ever thought that he would ever spend on his hair later..._

"So that's what my ears look like," Harry says, tracing his fingertips over their top rims.

Draco chuckles beside him and takes over the tracing, making it a lot more pleasurable than when he was doing it himself.

"Do you like it?" he asks.

Harry smiles and nods. "Too bad it will be a mess again by tonight."

Draco shrugs. "It passed time."

"Mmm, yeah."

Harry would have said more, but Draco's fingers on his ears are getting very distracting. He steps right up to Draco, closes his eyes, and leans his head against his blonds' chest. He remembers when they were still in the bathtub, and Draco was soaping/lathering up his hair. Not only was his hair being washed and softened, but it had turned into a massage. And _wow_, could Draco give a _good_ massage. It was just his scalp, shoulders, and back, but Harry had never realized how much tension was in his upper body. Honestly, Draco rubbed at his left shoulder for what felt like hours. He even had to cast four warming charms on the water because it was getting too cold because they had been in there so long. When they finally got out and drained the water they both had raisined fingers and toes—but Harry felt a million times better, so it was okay.

"I thought _mother_ was tense," Draco had said as they toweled each other dry. "Have you ever had a massage in your _life_?"

"Nope," Harry had replied. "But I'm glad I got one. I never noticed, but there was this serious strain in my left shoulder. You know, that spot that you spent forever on? Like, wow, I never knew that arms are supposed to bend this far. I love you so much. I wish I could do half the stuff you do."

Draco had blushed at that. "I don't think massages and harp music really amount to all that much in the scheme of things, really."

"No way. I could take on ten Vol—I mean, ten You-Know-Who's right now. And if you were playing your harp in the background like battle music I'd feel even more powerful. And you could pick out the coat I take him down in. Honest to Merlin, Draco, I'm unstoppable with you."

Of course that just made Draco blush deeper, so the conversation was pretty much over.

Then came clothes, which was really a casual affair even with helping the other button up shirts and roll up cuffs and the like. After dressing, Draco cut Harry's hair, and it really did look great. It was a shame it grew back so fast.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Harry says into Draco's shirt.

"Please do," Draco replies, his fingers now having moved on to play with the strands of Harry's hair. "Secrets are always fun."

"Well, it's not much of a secret. Just something I thought you'd like to know."

"Well, I would like to know, so I don't care if it's a secret or not. You can tell it to me."

Harry sighs. Not an unhappy kind of sigh, but a content sigh. "Sometimes, in my head, I refer to you as mine. Like, 'my blond', and 'my Gryffindor', and 'my absolutely gorgeous hunk of beauty'. Just thought I'd let you know that."

Draco takes a hold of Harry by his shoulders and pushes Harry away, but keeps gripping onto him. He searches Harry's face, and then says, "Really?"

"No, I just decided to throw a random lie at you when you just spent the last forever doing something amazing for me. Yes really."

Draco laughs and then pulls him back. "Funny. I do that too."

Harry tightens the arms that he has around Draco's waist. Smiling, he says, "Except I'd be your Slytherin, and your devilishly dashing strong blob of loveliness'."

Draco laughs again. "If you insist. Though I do believe we can exchange the word blob for something a bit more...appealing."

Harry purses his lips in a quizzical way. "Lump?"

"Well, I was thinking something more like chunk, or even piece."

"I like lump."

"I like blob more than I like lump."

"It's _my_ name."

"I'm the one _saying_ it."

"What are you talking about? I'm the only one that's just said it!"

Draco laughs; not really laughs, but just blows air out of his nose in a way that suggests a laugh. "Fine then. You're my devilishly dashing _chunk_ of loveliness. Case closed, time for—no, I can't say breakfast. It's time for lunch."

He whirls away from Harry and starts off to the door before Harry can do anything about it.

"Come along now, my little Slytherin," he says, swinging open the door and walking out.

"Little?" Harry yells, running after him. "Oh, yes, I'd like to talk about _little_. You come back here, you big—I mean little, stupid hunk of beauty."

"You'll have to catch me first, my chunk of loveliness." He yanks open the door and twirls into the hall. "Out here, where you know nothing. I know this place like the back of my hand, my dear man. You'll never find me."

Harry darts toward him instantly in an effort to at least try and catch him, but Draco is gone before Harry even gets out of the room. And not just down the hall gone, but _gone_.

"Oh, bloody hell," Harry says, slowing to a walk once he enters the hallway. "I'll never find him in this stupid house."

"We can help you find him."

Harry leaps at least three feet in the air at the voice beside him. When he lands, pressing himself against the wall in fear, he sees that it's only Felicia and Remus standing right outside their door.

"Who let you guys out?" Harry asks, his heart calming down.

"Who says we don't know how to get out ourselves?" Felicia replies, looking at him like he's an idiot for asking such a question.

"Then how, pray tell, did you get out?"

"Cissa!" Remus says.

"Who?"

"He means Aunty Narcissa," Felicia says. "She came over an hour ago to let us out because she knew you guys would take forever."

Harry purses his lips. "Alright, so you don't know how to get out."

"Notta cwue," Remus says, shaking his head sadly.

"Thought so. Anyway, about helping me find Draco...he's probably halfway to China by now."

"Oh, if he was going to China he'd already be there," Felicia says, examining one of her nails. "China's far too easy to get to. No, he's still in the house. And yes, we'd love to help you. We've been here many a time. We don't know it to perfection like Dray does, but we can still help."

Harry eyes her skeptically. Any nine-year-old that says "many a time" and the word "perfection" in the correct context shouldn't be trusted in his eyes. "How do I know you guys won't turn on me?" he asks.

She shrugs. "You don't," and Remus nods vigorously beside her.

"Deal, then," Harry says, sticking his hand out to her.

_Gods, what am I doing?_ he thinks. _She's nine, for Merlin's sake._

But she takes his hand and shakes it once, and as soon as she lets go Remus reaches up to try and shake it too. Of course, he's a bit too short, so Harry bends down for him.

"You take Remmy," Felicia says, pushing her brother lightly towards Harry. "I'll move faster without him, and you won't be able to move fast anyway since you don't know where you're going."

"Uh, sure," Harry says, eyeing Remus oddly as the boy shuffles towards him. He lifts his hands up to be held, but Harry pretends he doesn't see. He'll get all snuggled with the kid after Felicia heads out.

"Here, take this," she says, pulling off one of the two rings she's wearing and handing it to him. "Put it on and press the sapphire"—that's the only thing on it, and its flat—"if you find him or if you need me. I'll do the same for you. It'll glow if I press it, so check on it often, and to be transported to me just press it yourself when you see it glowing. Just in case we need it, by the way, if you twist the gem while it's glowing, _I'll_ be transported to _you_." She turns to Remus. "Watch the ring too, okay? Tell 'Ry if you see it glowing."

Remus nods. "I tell him," he says. "If it duz, I tell him."

"Good. See you two around, then." And with that, she turns around and walks towards the wall beside her door. But she doesn't run into it. No, she walks right through it.

_Well isn't that lovely_, Harry thinks._ If random places in walls have secret passageways I won't even be able to find the bathroom in this place._

He looks down at Remus, who's looking up at with him with big eyes.

"Come on," Harry says, holding his hand out to the kid. "We better get started."

Remus takes it with his left hand (_Probably so he doesn't have to watch out for that side_, Harry thinks), gripping tightly, and follows Harry as he slowly wanders down the corridor, trailing his hands down his side of the wall in case of any secret openings.

_**OoOoOoO**_

Draco ambles through the secret passage he had disappeared into. He had gotten just around the corner before pressing his hand against the specific spot on the wall that activates the floor to become no longer solid so he could slide down the slide beneath it. It spat him out between the wall of the game room and the laundry/boiler room and he's content to stay there until Harry gives up and asks mother to use a spell to locate him.

_I hope Harry doesn't ask the kids for help_, he thinks, pulling out his wand to make it a little lighter. All of the secret passageways are automatically lit just to the barest of light, but Draco would much rather use a _lumos_ spell. _They'll find me a lot easier. Or at least Felicia will, the little witch. Maybe I'll just play a game of chess by myself to pass the time. The board lost to me last time, so it will want its revenge._

He turns around to head back towards the secret exit out of this place, but he stops about halfway back. There are footsteps right beside him. When he stops, they keep going though, so he knows he hasn't been found.

"Oh Draaaay…" a voice says quietly on the other side of the wall. "Come out come out wherever you are…"

Draco frowns. That's Felicia's voice. Harry _did_ ask the kids for help. Or, knowing said witch, they _volunteered_ to help him. And again knowing her, she would really help him. Sometimes she just pretends to help somebody when she's really helping the other, but Draco can tell that she likes Harry, so she'll definitely help him. Besides, if she wanted to help Draco she would have just called to him how much better of a hiding place she'd be able to find.

She was much too smart for her own good. That's what you get for having an uncle, two aunts, and a cousin entirely focused around the Dark Lord. Especially Aunty Bella...

Suddenly the footsteps stop, and they start to backtrack. Right to the secret exit (secret _entrance_ on her side) that Draco is heading towards.

"_Nox_," he whispers, and then presses into the shadows of the passage. There are secret places _inside_ of the secret places.

Felicia is suddenly inside of the passage, her arms spread out across to drag them across the walls.

Draco swears in his head and slowly and silently feels around him for a secret passage inside his secret passage that's inside the secret passage.

But no such luck.

When she passes, her hand falls into the wall that he's in.

She smirks and turns towards him. "You're in this, then, are you?" she says. Sticking her head forward, she looks up at him with a grin. "Found you."

Draco groans. "Already?" he says. "Honestly, it hasn't even been ten minutes."

She shrugs and steps a bit more into the wall so I can't get passed her. She holds her hand up to her face and pressed the ring she has on her finger.

And Draco knows what _that_ means.

"Ah, no fair!" he says. "I can't get around you without hurting you!"

"I know," she says, grinning again. "I'm so glad Borgin sent these to me. You have no idea how handy they've been. You could probably get some too, you know. Two sets, even. Rubies that you'll always have with you, and emeralds that you could share with Harry so you can always find each other."

"Hey, that's a good idea," Draco says, deciding he'll just give up now. It would have been fun if only Harry was searching for him, but now that Felicia's on his side it's just dumb. "I'll get the emerald ones for Harry and me for Christmas."

"When's his birthday?"

"Uh…sometime over the summer…" Draco says awkwardly.

She raises an eyebrow. "You don't even know the exact date? That's really bad. Aren't you guys dating?"

Heat wells up in his face. "How did you know about that?"

"You guys look at each other like my parents do. So learn his birthday or you're in trouble."

At that precise moment, her ring seems to explode with blue light, and beside her another blue light explodes, and when the light fades Harry is standing there, Remus held tightly in his arms.

"Uh…" Harry says. "Hello?"

"Oh, I forgot we're behind a wall," Felicia says. She steps out so Harry can see her. "Come along now, Dray. The game is over and you have lost."

With a sigh Draco steps just outside of the wall, Harry and Felicia spreading apart a bit so there's actually room. This passage isn't _that_ wide.

"That was almost boring," Harry says, smiling warmly at Draco. Draco notices that he's absentmindedly stroking the small of Remus' back. "I'm glad Felicia helped me though. I was afraid it would take hours, and I'm really quite hungry."

"Almos' noon," Remus says, reaching up to take Harry's glasses. Harry doesn't even protest when they're taken off of his face; he just blinks a lot. Draco can't help but smile and step closer to Harry. "Cissa will have wunch weddy for us wen we get bak."

"I need my glasses back then, bud," Harry says. Draco almost trips over his non-moving feet at _bud_. "I can't see without them."

Remus sighs sadly. "I wish I cowld see. Mummy won't let me."

"I think she's insane not to let you," Harry says. "I know what it's like not being able to see hardly at all. I wish she could know so that she'd see how horrible it is for you."

"I be fine. I get use to it. I going to be a one-eye king of jungle." He roars again.

"Alright, alright," Draco says, laughing to cover up how odd he thinks Harry's affection to the boy really is. "I'm hungry too, so let's get going. I know a shortcut a few rooms down that comes out in the kitchen pantry."

As Draco takes the glasses from Remus and puts them back on Harry', Felicia says, "Ooh, me first!" shoving past all of them since she's closer to the game room exit than the kitchen.

"I want cheese!" Remus squeals, shaking his body to be put down. Harry does, laughing, and Remus runs after his sister. She slows down at the end of the laundry/boiler room so he doesn't hurt himself trying to catch her.

"You've surprised me," Draco says, slipping in beside Harry in the narrow space, linking their arms together.

"_Lumos_," Harry says, and a light shines brightly on the tip of his wand. "You mean I surprise you that I stooped so low as depending on a nine-year-old to find my boyfriend?"

"I HEARD THAT!" Felicia screams from ahead.

Draco and Harry giggle as quiet as they can.

"No, actually, I assumed that would happen," Draco finally says, steering Harry in the right direction. "I meant how cute you were being with Remmy."

Harry sighs. "Alright, so I like _some_ kids. Sue me."

"Oh, no, I just wouldn't have pictured my big bad Slytherin Boy Who Lived to let a two-year-old steal his glasses."

"Slytherin's aren't _all_ bad," Harry says. "I'm proof of that, working _against_ You-Know-Who."

"True; they're just all rude and not afraid to make sure everybody knows that they hate somebody."

"I wish I could argue with that, but…no. I can't."

Draco kisses Harry's cheek. "We're here." And he pulls him through the wall.

Inside the pantry, Harry blinks a lot and looks around. "This is the second floor, right? We didn't even take any stairs!"

"Of course not. The laws of physics do not rule wizard secret passageways. Now let's go eat. I can smell the pumpkin pie from here."

_**OoOoOoO**_

Harry follows after Draco with a smile, but he's having a hard time doing so. Not following Draco, but smiling. He hadn't realized until searching with Remus that today is October thirty-first.

Today is the anniversary of his parent's deaths.

Today, Voldemort killed his parents when they gave their lives to protect him.

Today, Voldemort was first destroyed, and the wizarding world was celebrating.

But Voldemort is back now. And his parents are still dead. It's still the anniversary of James and Lily Potter's deaths to save their son.

Harry doesn't want to say anything about it because he knows it will dampen the entire rest of the day. He got through his Halloween holidays at Hogwarts alright. Something about being in a giant castle with friends and ghosts and talking portraits just distracted him from it really well. But (and as surprising as this is) there are no wizard portraits in this house that Harry's seen, and Harry hasn't seen a single ghost. And the only real friend here he has is Draco, and just one friend can't even distract him from dust unless it involves a harp, a bed, or a bath.

"Oh, Harry dear!" Narcissa says from the table. Felicia and Remus are already seated and digging into their turkey, mashed potatoes, pumpkin pie, and all their other Halloween foods. She stands up and walks over to them. "I need a quick word with you," she says. "A private one."

Draco frowns at her. Their eyes are level, so by the time Draco is fully grown he'll have passed her in height. "Why can't I hear it?" he asks sadly.

"Because," she says. "Go eat."

Draco frowns even deeper, but he doesn't argue with his mother. He just walks over to the table and starts filling his plate.

"Back into the pantry, dear," Narcissa says, ushering Harry back around.

"Uh, what's all this about?" Harry asks as they walk inside.

Narcissa shuts the door and turns to him. "Today is October thirty-first," she says.

"Yes…" Harry says, not really sure how he's supposed to answer to that.

She holds her hand out, and in it lays a single rose. "This is for you, in honor of your parents." Waving her wand over it, it turns into a pin to go onto his shirt.

Harry's hand flies to his face instantly, covering his mouth and his nose. His other hand goes to wrap around his stomach, and he clamps his eyes tightly shut.

_How does she know about it?_ Harry thinks. _Of course everybody that would be their age now knows about it. But she isn't supposed to know about it. She's supposed to ignore it like I am. She's supposed to pretend like I am._

"I am sorry, Harry," she says, quieter now. "I know how it feels."

Harry shakes his head, doing his best to keep his tears from flowing freely. "How could you know?" he asks through his hand.

"But I do, Harry."

"But _how_?"

"In due time, Harry," she says quietly, and Harry feels her hand rest lightly on his shoulder. "In due time. In the meantime, and I do believe this is quite the subject change, but I have received a mysterious letter regarding your…Halloween costume."

Harry opens his eyes. "What does it say?" he asks.

"It simply says to help you with your costume. It was signed L.B."

Harry wishes he could smile. "Lavender Brown. She made my costume for me and I won't be able to redo it myself. I'm supposed to ask you if you can read all of the spells for it…she wrote them down, and I have all the materials. I…just need help doing it."

"Are you asking me to help you, then?"

Harry's reluctant, but he nods. He's still not exactly comfortable around Draco's mother.

"Excellent. I cannot wait. Draco is going to help the children with their costumes, so when he leaves just say my name. I will be in the wardrobe."

Harry can't help but forget about his parents right now. "I'm sorry, the wardrobe."

She nods. "I am going to go back out. I will tell Draco that I have sent you on a search for the new bottle of chocolate syrup. It is just to your right when you come out so he does not see that I am technically lying."

She removes her hand from his shoulder, and Harry hears her set the rose pin onto the shelf the chocolate syrup is on. She leaves the pantry, the door closing behind her.

_James. Lily. Voldemort. Death. Rebirth. Still Dead._

Harry's fingers grab the pin, and he fumbles to pin it onto an inconspicuous spot on his shirt so Draco doesn't ask about it. And then he sinks to the middle of the floor and lets the tears flow freely.

_**XxX**_

_Later enough that it's time to get ready for Trick-or-Treating, and that means costumes…_

"I'm just going to make this clear," Draco says from the middle of the room to Harry, who's sitting in one of the white chairs with the red buttons. "I don't want you to see my costume until it's all the way on. So I'm going to go change with Felecia and Remmy—since I have to help them get into their costumes anyway—and don't you dare come looking for me. We'll just meet in the kitchen, alright?"

"I'm in the same boat," Harry says, silently thanking the gods for Draco having this idea instead of Harry having to shoo him out awkwardly for Narcissa to be able to help him. "You can come into the room since I'll be in the bathroom, but don't go in there if you need anything unless you knock first and I give the okay."

"Right. I'll see you soon then."

After a warm kiss, Draco leaves the room, and Harry manually locks the door so Draco will be able to get in with his wand. Then, facing the white wardrobe, he whispers, "Uh, Narcissa?"

The doors swing open, and out walks Draco's mother, dressed up as elegantly as always.

"Hello, Harry," she says. "So glad I could help you out with this. Draco is too old to ask me to help _him_ anymore. Show me that list and let us get started."

Harry smiles at her, completely putting out of his head his parents and that she's the wife of a Death Eater, and instead bringing forward the fact that she's the mother of his boyfriend—and that her Patronus is a squirrel. Somehow it just makes him feel closer to her.

_**XxX**_

_Just a bit over an hour later..._

"This is beautiful," Narcissa says, standing beside Harry in the full mirror of the bathroom. It used to just be the size of one persons width, but she enlarged it so Harry could spread his arms out, and now it's big enough for both of them. "What was the girl's name? Lavender Brown? She is a brilliant young lady, especially for a Gryffindor. I am very glad Mr. Zabini owled his grandmother about her."

"So am I," Harry says, lifting one of his wings. He doesn't have his arms through the loops right now. "Do you think Draco will like it?"

Narcissa gives a dainty laugh. "Harry, dear, as surely as you are covered in golden glitter, Draco is going to adore it. Miss Brown must know him very well. Of course, it does not take a broom scientist to figure out that his name means 'dragon', but knowing that he actually likes dragons and the colour gold is difficult. Just because he is in Gryffindor does not mean he would like the colour. Look at me...I do not even like snakes. It is a good thing she did not dress you up as a dog of sorts, though. Draco detests dogs."

"Yeah, she said that," Harry says, examining his other wing. "It's a good thing Sirius isn't here to go all Animagus-form on him."

"Yes, he was a dog, was he not? I remember him at Hogwarts. Funny fellow. Always hanging out with...well, your father and some others. Did...did Draco tell you about—"

"Yeah, he told me," Harry says. "On the train to school. I passed out. It was funny."

She gives another dainty laugh. "I am sorry you had to learn about it. Lucius and I were planning on keeping it to ourselves, but once Draco told us that you were in his fancy... Well, it had to be said."

Harry laughs with her. "No, I totally understand that. I'm glad I found out. Lets me know my dad and I had _something_ in common. His being a Gryffindor screws a lot of our similarities."

"You know, it could be your being a Slytherin that screws with it."

Harry looks over at her—not through the mirror, but actually at her. She looks back at him, and they just stare silently at each other for a moment.

"Thank you," Harry finally says. "For all of this, I mean. Lavender told me that I should have somebody help me, and I knew that you were the only one I could ask." He looks back into the mirror. "I was afraid at first, because...well, a few things. First off, you're Draco's mum, so I wasn't sure if I should even ask you. 'Hey, Mrs. Malfoy, wanna help me get dressed?' Honestly, you can see the awkwardness in that. Plus you're the wife of a man I'm on some of the worst terms with... But I asked you anyway, and you practically jumped out of your skin in excitement. I don't have very many adults in my life who have done that for me. Dumbledore, Lupin, and Snape have more important things to do, Hagrid would screw it up, and...well, there isn't anybody else. So thank you."

And then the oddest thing happens.

Narcissa reaches over and gives Harry a soft hug, careful to avoid damaging his costume. Tentatively, Harry drops his wings and reaches up to hug her back.

"You are welcome, Harry," she says. "As much as the people I am usually around are out to get you, I really quite enjoy your company. I want you to win."

When she pulls away, Harry gives her an awkward grin. "Uh, yeah, thanks."

"Sorry," she says, using her wand to make all of the glitter that got onto her dress fly away. "Got a little carried away there, I suppose. Let us just say that I know what it is like not having any adult figures in your life, and ultimately doing things...wrong."

Harry tilts his head to the right. "What do you mean?"

She sighs—a dignified sigh, the kind that Snape gives. "My parents were killed when I was very young."

Something clicks in Harry's brain. Narcissa told him that she knew what it was like, and he had asked her how. It makes sense, now. And he feels _horrible_...

"I do not remember them as well as I wish," she continues. "But, a pair of Slytherin graduates that were only home once a week when I was home because of business raised me. I basically raised myself. That is the reason I was put into Slytherin. Dumbledore tells me that he is convinced I would have been put into Ravenclaw if it had gone another way... But I was not, and here we are now. The thing is, because of their influences, I was always looking for the wrongs things, and I looked for them by doing the wrong things.

"What I am saying, Harry, is that I know what you are going through. I am trying to be someone that you can talk to. I want you to see me as who I am, and not the wife of a Death Eater or the mother of your boyfriend. I want you to see me as an adult that you can speak to about things. Sadly, though, I cannot fully be that for you, because I never know when the Dark Lord is going to go through my memories. He never has, and I do not think he ever will, but he is unpredictable. Anyhow." She fluffs her dress. "That was productive, if I do say so myself. Is there anything else you need help with? Getting to the kitchen, perhaps?"

Harry smiles warmly at her. "Thank you, Narcissa. But why would I need help getting to the kitchen?"

"Oh, I was suggesting side-along apparation."

"Oh, yes, that sounds good."

"Back to the wardrobe, then!" She starts off to the bathroom door.

"Uh, why?" Harry asks, slipping his arms into the loops of his wings and following after her.

She presses her ear to the door, and then swings it wide. "Because only certain places in our homes can be apparated through. And not certain rooms, but certain places. There is one in each room—aside from the bathrooms, so do not trap yourselves in one of them. This room is the wardrobe, the room the children are in is under the middle bed, and the kitchen is the fourth chair on the far side of the table from the entrance to the dining room. Plus others, but they do not necessarily matter as of now."

"Wow," Harry says as Narcissa swings the wardrobe doors open. "That's creative. And it explains why you said you would be in the wardrobe when I called for you."

"It is creative though, is it not?" she says happily, stepping into the wardrobe. "Step lightly, now. It does not like newcomers."

The moment Harry starts to step up, one of the hangers tries to attack him.

"Oh, quite it," Narcissa says, grabbing the hanger and throwing it onto the ground. "Just show them who is boss, Harry. Take my arm, now."

Harry does, and after a slight silence he's squeezed into oblivion.

The next time he opens his eyes, he's holding onto Narcissa's arm in the kitchen.

And so the waiting ensues.

_**XxX**_

It feels like forever that Harry waits in the kitchen with Narcissa. They eat little pastries with cherry filling and white icing crisscrossing over the tops, and strawberries with cream, and they drink blueberry lemonade, and they eat all sorts of sweets Harry says to Narcissa that he'll regret eating later. But she just smiles and says that _she_ regrets eating them _now_. They talk about a lot of muggle things, because Narcissa has some questions. Things like matches and pens and iPod's and cell phones. She's apparently always wanted an iPod so she could listen to music while exercising without interrupting Lucius and Draco (though not Draco very often since he was mostly in school). All Harry can think about, though, is the fact that he honestly can't picture Narcissa in running shorts and a sports bra to save his life—not that he wants to, but if he needed to, he couldn't do it.

But his wait is finally up. He turns at the sound of footsteps, and nearly gives an audible groan when it's just Felicia and Remus. Although, Felicia does look beautiful in her soon-to-be glowing in the dark Japanese pixie costume, and Remus looks very cute in his lion costume. The head looks a lot like the one Luna wears to Gryffindor/Hufflepuff games. She wears an eagle for Ravenclaw/anything games, and whenever the Slytherin's are playing Gryffindor or Hufflepuff she wears a rather odd looking snake around her neck. It's kind of like a feather boa, but...not feathery...though it is a boa.

"Wow," Felicia says, looking Harry over. "You look awesome. I should have been a dragon. Good thinking, Draco loves gold, and he loves dragons."

Harry smiles. "Thanks," he says. "You look good too. Great job on the wings."

"Thanks, but Draco did them. That's why we took so long. He had to do the spells himself."

"Pweddy!" Remus suddenly yells, clapping his hands and running over to Harry. "Sparkwy! Gowlden!"

And so Harry continues to wait, Narcissa helping the kids decorate their Trick-or-Treating bags, Felicia just wanting to go already, and Remus trying to reach the plate of...healthier snacks?...on the counter.

It takes everything in Harry not to just go find Draco himself, but he finally manages to fall into a pacing to take his mind off things.

Six hundred and eighty-one steps later, Harry hears another set of footsteps coming towards the kitchen.

He whirls at the sound to see Draco walking into the room with a bright smile, dressed up as...a cat. A dark gray cat, with ears and a swishing gray tails and claws painted gray and a suit similar to Harry's but gray and furry. His shoes are the same as the gold Ugg's he owns, but of course gray and furry too. His nose is painted pink, there are whiskers on his cheeks, his teeth are sharp, and his eyes have been changed to literal silver. The only thing that hasn't been touched is his beautiful hair.

_Lavender, you _dog_, you_, Harry thinks with a mental grin. He'd talk to her later about this. No wonder she was asking if Harry liked cats and which colour he likes them best.

"Oh, _Harry_!" Draco says when he sees him. He's across the room in front of Harry in an instant. "You're so _golden_. So _glittering_. So _beautiful_. I feel so _plain_ next to you!"

"Don't!" Harry says, taking his hands. "I love it. I love cats, especially gray ones. You're the cutest thing I have _ever_ seen." And he means it. He really does.

Draco blushes. "Really? You're not just saying that? Because I honestly feel like a blob of non-creative standing here next to you."

"We'll blame Lavender," Harry says, shaking his head.

Draco cocks an eyebrow. "'Ender?"

"Well, yeah. She made your costume, right?"

Draco blushes. "It was my idea for the eyes. She was going to make them an icy blue."

"I'm glad she didn't. The silver is beautiful. There's no need to be embarrassed about her making your costume, though. She did everything about mine."

"Oh! I get it! No wonder you knew she made mine. I thought she just decided to randomly tell you the secret that she helped me. Yeah, we'll blame her for making me look all plain next to you."

"Can you imagine, though? You'd think the dragon would be all dominating, but no, tonight it'll be..." He trails off, glancing awkwardly over at Narcissa. Then, quieter, he says, "That awkward moment when you're about to make a joke about your sex life in front of your boyfriends mother."

Draco giggles lightly, but then Narcissa speaks: "That equally awkward moment when said boyfriends mother was going to also joke about said non-existent sex life."

Harry and Draco gape at her. "_Mother_!" Draco says.

"Oh, you know it is true," she says. "Months you have been together, and here you are, _virgins_."

Draco blushes, but Harry actually likes her saying these things. He likes that she treats them like any other couple, and that somebody he thought so dignified really...isn't. At all.

"Well we _would_ have done it," Harry says, "but you decided to come in and break it up."

"Better to be broken up by the mother before you get started than to have to stop right in the middle because of children."

Draco purses his lips. "She's right, of course," he says. "She's always right." Then he turns to her with a grin. "Except that _one_ time..."

"Merlin's wives, Draco, do not even get _started_ on that," Narcissa says, turning away from them and to the very confused looking kids.

Draco chuckles lightly. "It wasn't much," he says to Harry. "Just a simple arithmancy problem that she got wrong thanks to my broken self-correcting quill. Even father laughed about it."

"Sounds like something that would happen."

And he would have continued, but Felicia speaks first: "Can we _go_ now? Because I really don't care about Hogwarts class problems."

"Go!" Remus says. "Less' go!"

"Oh, al_right_!" Narcissa says in such a way that seems to make her voice bellow through the room even though she says it at a normal volume.

"We are Flooing to Mariah's in America," she continues over the children's happy squeals. "She is in the neighborhood that we will be Trick-or-Treating in." She walks over to Harry and Draco with a single silken bag, black with roses stitched in silver, and the handles lined in gold. It reminds Harry of the rose pin she gave him that he's pinned to the underside of his wing, right where his finger can rub against it whenever he feels the need. "If you two actually want to get any sweets," she says, "just put it all into this one. Felicia's and Remus' match their costumes. You can stay in the house with Mariah's oldest daughter, Bonnie, if you do not want to go house to house. She is one year older than Draco, Harry, and a squib, so _no magic_. Or you can stay with Mariah and I while we walk around with her younger daughter Kim, Felicia, and Remus. Kim is a cat too, Draco, but an orange tabby instead of your dark gray."

Harry and Draco look at each other.

"What do you say?" Draco asks. "Moms and kids or teenage squibs?"

"Depends," Harry answers. "Is said squib homophobic?"

"It will not matter," Narcissa says. "Her muggle boyfriend—who knows all about wizards and magic and whatnot—will be there with her; she probably will be in her bedroom most of the time."

Harry frowns. "It amazes me the amount of parents perfectly okay with their kids having sex."

"It is mostly just the fact that we know we cannot stop it," Narcissa says with a dainty laugh.

"Alright, enough!" Draco says loudly. "Harry, please, your answer."

"Alright, here's my proposal," Harry says to Draco. "We stay in the house until they start making out, or at least when they excuse themselves to the bedroom. Then we use those cool rings Felicia has to get wherever they—as in your mum and them. The muggles around us will just think us appearing in the street is a Halloween thing."

"Brilliant," Draco says. "I really need to get myself a couple of those. Honestly, they're wonderful."

"Remember, just ask Borgin," Felicia says, suddenly appearing. "Now this is all very well to do, but I want sweets."

Harry grins mentally. Her "well to do" was a bit out of context, but at least she could use it at all.

_**OoOoOoO**_

_After Flooing the Mariah's…_

Draco has been to Mariah's once before. It was three years ago, in the summer of third year. Kim is the type of girl who wants to wear make-up too early and needs to be the most popular thing on the planet. Draco has never liked her as a person—he's never liked her at all. Bonnie, on the other hand, is the opposite. She's pretty, Draco has to admit, but not the type of pretty that Kim is. She's the type of girl that nobody really wants until they get to know her, and once they get to know her she's one of the most real girls out there. She hardly wears any make-up (because she doesn't need it), she's never dyed her hair (its light brown, like the bark of a young tree), and she's never gotten an artificial tan. She's the type that completely speaks her mind, too; everyone knows who she does and doesn't like, and if you ask her how you look she will tell you the honest truth. Draco would love to get her Glimmer Bag colour tested, but on his own he guesses that she's lime green or baby blue.

Mariah is the classic soccer mum, even with the only sport in the family something called Track and Field, played by Bonnie. Even though both parents are wizards, they act completely muggle. Mariah works at the downtown grocery store, and her husband is in the military (so he's not around very much). Their house has only one magical thing about it, and that's that the basement and fridge are set to wizard space so they never run out of room.

He hasn't spoken yet, but so far Bonnie's boyfriend gives out that sort of nerdy jock aura. The kind of bloke that plays too many sports but also gets all his homework done. His name is Timothy Walker, he's turning eighteen tomorrow, and he's waiting to go to college until Bonnie graduates. Hopefully their relationship doesn't crash before then, but they've been dating since his freshman year, so Draco's betting it won't.

"Legit costumes," Bonnie says, looking both Draco and Harry over. "Harry—I hope I got your name right—you look like a glittering ball of golden flame. That's legit, yeah. Dray, yours is simple, but it's cute. You look like a little kitten. I like it."

Harry smirks. "Little."

Draco just smiles and says, "You're not the one topping tonight."

"Weeell then!" Mariah says. "Time for us to head out!" She takes Kim's hand and pulls her towards the door, Felicia and Remus run after them happily, and after mother winks at both Harry and Draco she follows slowly after them.

The door closes behind them, and the house is bathed in an awkward silence.

"I don't know about you guys," Timothy says, speaking for the first time tonight, "but I'm going to go make some chocolate milk." He looks down at Bonnie. "You want anything?"

"Just a glass of water, please," she says. "I'm going to catch up with Draco, if that's alright with you."

He shrugs. "Yeah, they seem cool."

After a quick peck on the cheek he disappears towards the kitchen.

"So how've you been, Dray?" she asks, plopping into the sofa. Both she and Timothy are dressed up in red, black, and yellow (mostly red) jumpsuits with lowercase I's on their chests. Draco's sure it stands for something, but he doesn't know what.

"_She_ calls you Dray, too?" Harry asks, sitting in one of the reclining chairs also in the living room.

Draco sits down on the arm of Harry's chair with a groan. "It get's worse."

"You liked it the last time you were here," Bonnie says.

"Yeah, almost as much as you liked being called Bon-Bon."

She smirks. "Touché. Now are you going to tell me how you've been or will I have to throttle you?"

"I've been fine, Bonnie," Draco says, rolling his eyes. "Don't hurt yourself."

"That's bull, Dray. You bring a random dude over to my house for Halloween that you're apparently 'topping'"—she puts air quotes into that word—"tonight. There's no way you got to the sex stage with everything going _fine_, unless you guys are just friends with benefits, which you know I feel strongly against. So what, pray tell, is behind the lovely word _fine_?"

"She reminds me of Lavender," Harry says, playing with his sharpened nails. "Sees everything and cares about nothing."

"Except me," Timothy says, suddenly returning. He sits down beside her, handing her the glass of water. "And track, and her grades, and getting pregnant, and her stuffed pig she happened to name Choppy. Really, Bon, who does that?"

She rolls her eyes heavenward with a smile as she takes the glass. "We've been over this, darling. Anyway, Draco, you were starting?"

"I wasn't planning on it," Draco says, taking one of Harry's hands to look at those nails as well.

"At least tell me where you got him, then."

"School," he and Harry say together.

"Wow, he's as annoying as you are. How long have you been gay, then?"

"Since before I met you," Draco says.

"And when did you get together…?"

"Technically it was the last few days of fifth year—I mean, well, yeah, you know what I mean. But it wasn't official until the first day of this year."

"So you were friends with benefits, then?"

"Ooh, bad move," Timothy says. "She's going to destroy you."

"No, we were not friends with benefits," Harry says, gripping tightly to Draco's hand for a moment. "It was just simply confusing, alright?"

Bonnie cocks an eyebrow. "Simply confusing, huh?"

"'Ry, stop talking," Draco says, stroking his fingers. "Bonnie is a very literal person and you tend to be very confusing, as blunt as you are. What Harry means, Bon, is that not all relationships fell together as perfectly as yours did." He knows for a fact that Bonnie and Timothy have never broken up before, but they act just like a normal married couple. "Some of us get into fights that break us up, and some of us don't first make-out when we're going out. Some of us are brought together by the kiss, and sometimes everything sucks so you don't get together right away. Understand?"

Bonnie shakes her head yes as she takes a drink from her glass. "No friends with benefits then. Good. Harry, I like you. Tell me about yourself."

Harry mumbles under his breath before saying, "I have no idea how to begin."

"Don't start with being the Boy Who Lived," Draco whispers to him. "Just tell her what your favorite classes are and your favorite sports and stuff. But try to say as little about magic as you can."

"I'll make it easy for you," Bonnie says. "I ask the questions, you say yes or no. Like, I'll ask if you like to do something, and you'll say you do or don't. And if it's a yes then maybe a conversation will unfold."

"Kind of like tgoaarqahisac?" Timothy asks.

"Wait, what?" Harry says at the same time Draco says, "Pardon?"

"Nothing," Bonnie says, flitting her hand at them. Then, to Timothy, she says, "Yeah, kind of." Finally she turns to Harry. "Alright, Harry. My first question. Do you read?"

"Uh, no," Harry says.

"Do you write? Like, short stories or poetry or something?"

"Not at all."

"Do you sing? In the shower, maybe?"

"If you call the sound of a dying rhino singing, then yes."

"That would be a no, then. Do you like being in drams? Like plays and stuff?"

"I'd rather just watch it."

"How about homework. Do you do your homework?"

"Of course. You can't brag about your grades when they're bad."

"Kay, a yes, finally. Do you like being outside?"

"Not really."

"UGH!" she screeches. "I give up!"

Both Draco and Timothy burst into laughter.

"Dray, honestly, I thought Tim could be bland sometimes—"

"Hey!" Timothy protests.

"—but your boyfriend is the _definition_ of bland. He goes to school with you? Good gracious, what are classes like? A flipping graveyard?"

Draco thinks about wizard graveyards and the fact that they throw Death Day parties nearly every day, and then he thinks about the fact that school is totally crazy except in History of Magic. "He's, uh, cooler when you've known him longer," he says awkwardly.

"I could still tickle you to death, you know," Harry says, leaning up behind Draco and his spot still on the arm of the chair.

Draco turns around to stare at him. "That was just _mean_, you big—I mean, little stupid Slytherin. You would not do that right now."

"No, not that. But I might do _this_!" And with that Harry wraps his arms around Draco and pulls him down on his lap so that Draco is sideways on the chair and his back is on Harry's legs—probably being permanently coated in sparkles this very second. And before anything else he leans down to press his lips to Draco's cheek, and _blows_, exactly like you would to the stomach of a small child.

And that's quite exactly how Draco responds, too: like a small child, flailing his legs and letting out a sound a mixture of a scream and a giggle.

"You are _evil_!" Draco gasps as Harry's blow turns into a real kiss. "You're worse than the Dark Lord! Worse than _ten_ of him! You big—I mean, little stupid dragon! If you had actually done that last time I would have _killed_ you!"

"Oh, you know you love me," Harry says, pulling away from Draco's face to look down at him with a smile.

Draco crosses his arms and growls under his breath. "So," he says, glaring at his neck.

"Don't make me roll you onto the floor."

Draco has latched his arms around Harry faster than he thought possible. "No," he says. "That would hurt."

Suddenly, though, he's aware of two other voices in the room, one laughing awkwardly and the other giggling so hard it's mostly just a lot of gasps.

Draco's face un-softens as he looks over at Bonnie and Timothy. They're indeed laughing, and the longer he looks the more he knows that they're laughing at him and Harry.

"You two are hilarious," Timothy says, grinning at the two boys. "I'm glad you came over."

"Not that Tim isn't right," Bonnie says, snuggling into him, "but I think we should play a game."

"What game?" Draco and Harry ask at the same time.

"That tgoaarqahisac we mentioned earlier," Bonnie says with a bright smile. "It stands for 'the game of ask a random question and hope it starts a conversation'—and it's _never_ capitalized."

Draco nods, but Harry just blinks at her.

"Here, I'll go first," Timothy says, obviously having played it before. "Harry, let's say that you discovered a new tree species. What would you want it to look like and what would you name it?"

Harry blinks at him, the kind of expression on his face that suggests he's just met someone weirder than Luna. Then he turns to Draco and says, "Hey, about going Trick-or-Treating."

"Oh good!" Bonnie says. "We were hoping you guys would leave since you got here. There's this new move we want to try out and we didn't' want to rudely excuse ourselves for sex over company."

Timothy is nodding through the whole thing.

"I could tell," Harry says. "I'm sure you knew that question would draw me out."

"I was hoping," Timothy says guiltily.

So Draco pushes on the sapphire ring, and moments later they're whisked away, leaving Bonnie and Timothy to their own adventures.

_**XxX**_

"Here, eat this," Harry says to Draco after about twenty minutes of Trick-or-Treating with the kids. (The amount of stares they got is astounding. "They're _old_," one man had said.")

"What is it?" Draco asks, taking it and unwrapping it without question.

"3 Musketeers, it's called. Chocolate marshmallow encased in milk chocolate."

Draco bites into the candy, and is instantly in love. "Wow," he says around the mouthful. "Muggle stuff is great!"

"You know what else is great?" mother asks from the front of their pack.

"What?" Draco and Harry ask together, though Draco sounds kind of sticky.

"I'm sending you home. And you won't be interrupted the rest of the night." She winks, and Draco and Harry exchange glances, both thrilled and slightly scared that mother knows so much about their sex life.

"Take my hands, now," mother says, taking one of Draco's and one of Harry's before they can reply. "Mariah, don't move an inch or I'll land on top of you." She apparates, and the next thing Draco knows, he's in a hard box like thing, filled with soft things with sleeves and—

A door in front of them swings open.

_Oh, it's just the wardrobe_, Draco thinks. _I knew that._

Mother pushes the two boys out, and they nearly trip onto the floor at her strength.

"Have fun, boys!" she says, waving her fingers at them and smiling brightly. She pulls the closet doors back shut (there are handles on the inside just for apparating), and Draco hears her leave with a pop.

Draco and Harry look over at each other, grins erupting onto their faces.

"I think showers are in order," Harry says, being the first to say anything at all.

"I agree," Draco says, jumping into a standing position. "Same or different showers, do you think?"

"Different. The sexual tension will build better that way."

Draco smirks at the dragon. Hmm, dragon...it was weird calling somebody else that, considering his name means dragon so most people call _him_ one. "I'll take one in Felicia and Remus' room, and you can take one here. And you'll probably finish before me, so...well, maybe not. You're wearing a lot more make-up than me. We'll have to keep the eyes the same, though. 'Ender didn't give me the spell to change them back."

"She didn't give them to me, either," Harry says, pursing his lips. "How nice of her."

They both gather up the things they'll need for a shower, and after a quick kiss they're off. Draco is prepared to spend at least an hour getting out of his costume, and he wishes he could just get Lavender over here to do it for him. Actually...

He runs to the fireplace in Felicia and Remus' room, taking care to cast locking and silencing charms on the door behind him.

"Gryffindor common room!" he says, throwing in the Floo-talk powder. He's not going there, but just calling it. He sticks his head into the fire, and a moment later he's looking around a group of suddenly frightened third years. "Erm, hi. Do any of you know where Lavender Brown is? Tell her Draco Malfoy is in the fire looking for her..."

"I HEARD MY NAME!" somebody screams in the room. Draco smirks as Lavender appears, flipping over one of the chairs. "Oh! Draco, you barely caught me. Like my costume? I love leopard print. What brings you here?"

"I need the list of spells to get all of this naff off of Harry and me," I say.

Lavender presses her lips into a hard line. "Draco, I'm not sure I should give them to you. They're dangerous enough as it is, but in the hands of somebody who's never used them before you could kill yourself..."

"Come over here, then. It won't even take five minutes, I swear."

She puts her hands on her hips. "Draco, I happen to have a date waiting for me on the other side of the room."

Dean suddenly appears beside her. "I can wait. I don't really have anything better to do, anyway. You know I'm terrible at dancing."

Lavender sighs. "Oh, alright, fine." She whispers something to Dean, who nods. "Step aside, children," she says to the third years. They get far out of her way, watching her on the other side of the chairs. Lavender uses her wand to summon a bag of Floo powder, and hands it to Dean after taking a handful.

"Give me ten seconds," Draco says. "I have to take down the wards."

"Ten exactly?"

"Exactly."

Draco pulls out before any more conversation ensues, and quickly says a single spell with his wand pointing at the fire. It turns a flaming pink for two full seconds, and then goes back to the normal orange.

Lavender swirls up a few more seconds later, a slip of parchment in her hands.

"Harry first," Draco says, taking her hand and pulling her after him to get back into the bedroom. The bedroom is unlocked, but the bathroom door has inside silencing spells on them, so they can still yell through.

"Harry!" Draco calls. "'Ender is here to take off our bloody costumes. Wait five seconds to open the door so I don't see you, alright?"

There's a click, and then there's a voice: "Well this is certainly convenient."

Draco goes back to the bedroom and into the bathroom, setting up all his shampoos and conditions and body lotions.

"Don't move, Draco," Lavender says.

He doesn't, and she's finished with all of the spells in less than a minute, leaving him stark naked.

"Thanks, 'Ender," Draco says, walking back into the bedroom to lock and silence the door. He's never cared about being in front of Lavender; what's the point when she'd make fun of him for being embarrassed anyway?

"Welcome," she says, taking a handful of Floo powder. "I'll see you later!"

"Yeah, have fun at the party!"

"Have fun losing your virginity!" She winks, and disappears into the fire.

Draco rolls his eyes and puts the wards back up, and then skips into the bathroom to be perfect for Harry.

_**OoOoOoO**_

Harry finally opens the door to the bathroom, a towel around his waist and hair dried with spells. He's hard from all of his thoughts in the shower, but there's still plenty room to grow.

"There are flowers on your towel," a voice says in front of him.

Harry's head snaps up from watching his feet as he walks to the bed, and there's Draco, lying seductively on top of it, with the covers pulled up to the middle of his chest. His hair looks soft even from here—and he would never admit it out loud, but it kind of reminds him of the soft down of a baby duckling, and he's perfectly okay with it because he wants to run his fingers through it _so_ badly.

Harry's fingers uncurl from the towel, letting it drop to the rug as he makes his way across the room to the bed. He crawls onto it, sitting on top of the blankets as he straddles Draco and presses his lips softly to the blonds. Draco's legs wiggle around until the blanket is somehow pulled out from underneath Harry, and their skin presses together hotly. His arms reach up and twin around Harry's neck and shoulders, and Harry's hands place themselves on either side of Draco's head.

The next thing Harry knows, he's flat on his back and Draco is straddling him, his groin grinding into Harry's and his lips hard on his and his fingers twined into his and pressing them to the bed so there's nowhere for Harry to go.

"It's my turn, remember?" Draco says between kisses, their tongues twining and their lips bruising against the others and their teeth clashing every so often. "I top, and I'll top you so hard you won't know what's hit you for days. You'll be sore all over, and you won't regret a single bit of it."

Harry moans into Draco mouth, grinding his groin back into his, and Draco groans back.

"I want you, Draco," Harry whispers huskily around Draco's lips.

Draco pulls his face away from Harry's and looks down at him, his lips red from bruising and his silvery eyes darkened with lust. "I want you more," he whispers, grinning just slightly. And then he leans down so that his eyes are completely locked onto Harry's, and continues: "I want to shag your brains out."

"Sweet Merlin," Harry says, forcing himself to keep his eyes open. He just wants to close them and savor the words and never let them go. "Would you?" he asks, pulling his hands away from Draco's and placing them on Draco's sides.

"I would love to." Draco leans back down and kisses him, letting his eyes drift slowly shut. Harry's close slower, slow enough to see Draco reach over somewhere to his right to grab what looks like his wand.

A moment later he leans up and whispers a spell Harry's unaware of—until lubricant squirts out of the end of his wand and into his hand, and Harry is instantly interested in learning it.

"What?" Draco says, reading Harry's face. "You think the only thing I did this morning was suck you off?" He shakes his head. "I read up on a couple of things, too. Spells are a beautiful thing."

He crawls backwards on Harry until he's sitting between his legs, and then his dry hand is tilting up his arse as much as it can with him on his back. Cold fingers slide into the crack, and they graze his opening. Harry tilts his head back and moans, wishing he could watch Draco as he does the things he's doing. A finger slides inside, and Harry's hands tangle into the sheets below him. _In and out, back and forth, slide, slide, slide._ Two fingers. His toes curl. Three fingers. His eyes roll.

And then Draco is whispering again, the same spell, and lubricant squirts into his hand again. He rubs more of it at Harry's opening, and Harry watches with lust as he coats his cock in it. He spends a generous amount of time doing that, and Harry doesn't realize that he's doing it on purpose until he darts his eyes up to see that Draco's own eyes are watching him, following his reactions.

"Ready?" he asks huskily, tilting Harry's arse up again.

Harry nods, and he feels something cold against his opening again. But it's bigger, and it's warmer than the fingers were, and—

And then it's inside of Harry, and he's biting his bottom lip to keep from calling out like a child. It stings—yeah, it stings, but it's a good sting.

Draco slides inside of Harry slowly, watching his face for any signs of need to stop what he's doing. And then his balls are against Harry's arse, as deep as he can go. He pulls back out just as slowly, stretching him more, until only the head of his cock is still inside. He does it again.

When his head is all that's in again, Harry's had enough.

"Draco," he groans, tilting his arse up even more. "Just fuck me already."

He does. Harry's never felt something so amazing in his entire life.

"Harder," he moans.

Draco's cock pushes deeper inside of me, his balls tight as they press against Harry's arse.

"Faster."

Their breathing quickens. Draco slams into Harry, his balls slapping loudly. Harry moans loud and long and deep. Draco's arms loop underneath Harry's knees to put his legs over his shoulders, tilting his arse up even higher. His fingernails dig into Harry's skin and his palms are sweaty, and Harry's hands are grasping the sheets, and both their heads are tilted back in ecstasy, and—

Bright stars explode in front of Harry's eyes, and he moans loudly.

"Found it," Draco whispers huskily, looking down at Harry with triumph in his eyes.

Harry's not even sure what Draco's found (considering the fact that he's never had parents or classes to teach him about anything, all he's learned is the basic things and derogatory phrases from school), but he doesn't even care what it is. The stars are beautiful and Draco's cock is thick and his eyes are glittering and his bruised lips are succulent and his face is _perfect_. His torso is perfect and his arms are muscley and his thighs and calves are strong and his arse is toned and his body is beautiful. Harry never wants this moment to end so long as he lives and he wants to fall asleep in Draco's arms and he is so glad he's letting Draco top first because he himself would ruin everything.

And then Draco's hand is at Harry's cock, pumping him hard, stroking and rubbing and swirling and—

And suddenly Harry's vocal cords are working on their own accord. "D—Dray—Drake—DRACO!" he moans. His climax shakes the walls. His cock spills out over Draco's hand and his stomach and the bed. And then Draco is moaning Harry's name, too, thrusting one last, hard, deep, fast time inside of him. Harry feels the release curl inside of him, and it feels like it never stops, and Harry's in love.

But it finally ends, and Draco pushes Harry's legs off of his shoulders, and his head is hanging, and his breathing is almost harder than Harry's. It stings just a bit when his cock comes out of Harry's opening with a quiet _pop_. Draco looks up at Harry, and his eyes are still dark with lust, and Merlin knows how dark Harry's are.

"Come 'er," Harry says, holding his arms out to the blond.

Draco does without hesitation, falling into Harry's arms, his arms wrapping around Harry's neck and his lips pressing softly to Harry's. Draco tastes like the most beautiful angel in history—well, the second most beautiful angel. Because the most beautiful was Lucifer, so let's not compare him to the Devil.

Draco's face pulls away from Harry's, and he looks down at him with a tired but loving look. "Was it okay?"

Harry's manages a snort, even though he's just as tired as Draco looks. "Do worms live happily in dirt? Yes I loved it. Don't ask stupid questions."

He smiles warmly. "I love you, Harry. I never want this to end. I mean, not this specifically—though it is lovely. I never want us to find love anywhere else, and I never want to die. I want to be with you forever. Is that okay?"

"I told you not to ask stupid questions, Drake," Harry says, pulling Draco down on top of him to kiss him again. "I love you, too."

They lay like that for a long time, just holding each other, and Harry never wants their moment to end.

"Ready to sleep?" he asks in a whisper.

Draco nods drowsily, the soft down of his head rubbing softly against Harry's skin.

They roll around until they manage to get underneath the covers, until Harry's back is to Draco and Draco's body is spooning him, one of his arms wrapped over his waste and their legs twined together.

"Goodnight, my little dragon," Draco whispers, pressing a kiss to the back of Harry's head.

"Sleep tight, kitten," Harry whispers, turning his head to kiss Draco's forehead.

_Years of false hatred and false words_, Harry thinks to himself as he drifts off to sleep, remember how he and Draco used to be. _We thought the others feelings and words of detest were real... Why didn't we just give up?_

"I love you, Harry," Draco whispers behind him, his voice in a dreamlike state.

_Ah yes. That's why._

"I love you too, Dray."

Harry's never slept better.

* * *

References: 1. Those rings with the flat sapphires that Felicia has that she lets Harry and Draco use? No, they don't exist, to my dismay. I just made them up on the spot.

2. _tgoaarqahisac_ is my own creation :) Obviously I didn't make up the game (basically, it's like Truth or Dare, but without the Dare), but I made up its name. I've introduced it to tons of people, and I would be thrilled if you introduced it to any of your own friends. You might be thinking "why on earth would I introduce something so simple to anybody…?" And the answer, my dear readers, is to see the looks on their faces when you ask them if they want to play. You just have to learn how to say all of the letters really fast! =]

3. _"I tried, therefore no one should criticize me," Harry says, twisting his head down to dunk his face into the water to wash away the bubbles._  
The part that Harry actually says is actually a lion from Daniel Radcliffe. I just had to put it in, for obvious reasons.

/

A/N: Remus (the little one) might seem a bit…well, really bad or way too good at vocabulary for his age. I have two younger cousins and two younger brothers and all four of them were really slow in their speech progress, so I'm not all too sure how a normal nearly-three-year-old speaks. So yeah.


	19. Year 6, Part IX

**Year Six, Part IX: The Mad, the Sad, and the Rad**

Beginning chapter A/N's: I just want to make it clear that it's assumed that Draco has never and will never play on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. I just took him out of all of it altogether. So, this chapter is dedicated to Quidditch! Also something that doesn't exist that I wish did, but it deserves its very own dedication because I want it way more than any stupid teleportation rings (though they are pretty cool).

* * *

Mother woke Draco and Harry up at noon the next day, and to Draco's surprise she made no comment about their being naked, covered in spunk, or their needing a shower. They had taken a shower, though it wasn't as sexual as it could have been. It was a slow morning, and Draco hoped that the rest of the day would be just the same. It took a bit of coaxing from Harry, but he did the same thing that he had done to his hair the night before. Harry said it reminded him of a baby chick, and Draco would have been appalled if not for the fact that Harry couldn't stop touching it.

Breakfast was slightly rushed because mother had to get Felicia and Remus home, who had eaten breakfast in their pyjamas. Just before they had left, Felicia reminded Draco to talk to Borgin about the rings, and Draco told her he would be sure to as soon as he had the chance.

Mother took them home first with a quick apparation, and then she, Draco, and Harry had piled into the car with their luggage in the magically enlarged trunk. Draco drove again, and they were halfway home before he realized something.

"Dammit, Harry!" he had yelled, causing both other members of the automobile to jump.

"It wasn't me!" Harry had yelled, instantly on the defense.

"No, it wasn't," Draco muttered. "It was both of us. I never got to introduced you to the zirgs!"

Harry had just laughed, and Draco continued to mutter at the steering wheel.

By the time they get to school, classes would have been over if it wasn't a Sunday.

Draco hugs his mother tightly goodbye, Harry exchanges with her a light hug, and then she disappears down the long Hogwarts roadway.

House elves appear and take all of their things for them, and Draco and Harry thank them graciously.

"It's funny," Draco says as the walk up the steps. "She never said a single word about our sex life today."

"She probably got a message from your dad," Harry says, taking Draco's hand absentmindedly. "Or any other Death Eater."

Draco frowns. How had he not thought about that? "Yeah," he says, gripping Harry's hand tightly. "I'll have to owl her."

"Tell her I said hi when you do."

"You could write it in yourself, if you'd like."

Harry smiles. "Yeah. I would like that. I like your mum. She's nice. I'm sorry I had to judge her so wrongly just because of your dad."

"She forgives you. It's not your fault. She would have done the same thing."

"I think anybody would."

"Come on, Harry," Draco says, pulling him inside of the castles. "Let's go see how the schools weekend went."

_**OoOoOoO**_

"Everything is so quiet," Draco says in a whisper as not to disturb it. "What happened while we were gone?"

"Too much," a voice says behind him and Harry.

They turn around to see Blaise and his girlfriend walking towards them, hand in hand, with extremely emotionless faces.

"Whoa, what's got into you two?" Harry asks, pulling Draco closer to him in unconscious protection.

"_Liars_," Silvi says. "The school is full of them."

"Like who?" Draco asks, pressing himself even closer to Harry.

"Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley are a pair," Blaise says.

"And Neville Longbottom and Millicent Bullstrode are another," Silvi says.

Harry's eyes widen. He knew about Hermione and Ron, but Neville and Millicent? "What happened?" he asks.

"Go ask them yourself," Blaise mutters. "Silvi and I don't like to talk about it. In fact, hardly anybody does. So just ask the actual people." They disappear around the corridor, muttering darkly to each other.

"Let's find Lavender," Harry says at the same time Draco says, "'Ender will know." They smile at each other and walk off to find the girl that somehow always knows everything.

_**XxX**_

"What do you mean you _don't know_?" Draco all but yells.

"Exactly what I said," Lavender says, examining the dry skin of her palm. "I don't know anything about the Neville/Millicent story. I know the same things that everybody else knows, and that's hardly anything at all."

"Al least tell us that part, then," Harry says, sitting down on the chair in front of the Gryffindor common room.

Lavender sighs. "All I know is that Neville and Millicent were never truly dating. They were faking it so whoever Neville really likes would think he moved on—the only problem is, nobody knows who it is that he really likes."

Harry feels like his heart explodes. "Oh my gods," he says, sinking deeper into the chair.

"Oh, it's you, then?" Lavender says, instantly catching on. "I knew it."

"He likes you?" Draco asks, incredulous.

"Remember that little secret he had?" Harry says, looking sadly up at Draco. "That one I promised not to tell you?"

Draco nods.

Harry sighs and opens his arms, and Draco sinks down and curls into his lap.

"Last I heard," Harry says quietly, wrapping his arms around Draco, "Neville was in love with me. Finding out that I love you instead crushed him. He said he was okay with it, but I'm not stupid. Then he got with Millicent, and I at first didn't believe it, but next thing I knew they were kissing all the time. I would never be able to kiss someone while I loved someone else, so I sort of just assumed he couldn't either. Obviously I was wrong."

"But how could you be?" Draco asks. "You know him so well!"

"No, he knows _me_ so well. I hate to admit it, but I hardly know him at all…"

"Yes, this has been proven," Lavender chimes in, "But it doesn't matter. What you've got to decided, Harry, is your feelings about the situation. Are you sad, mad, glad, or what? Indifferent works too, but it doesn't rhyme."

"Well I'm definitely not glad," Harry mutters, "nor am I indifferent."

"Probably sad, then."

But the pieces of Harry's heart that earlier exploded are coming back together, sticking into place not by freezing, but by boiling heat. "No," he says, looking Lavender dead in the eyes. "No, I think I'm mad."

Lavender smirks. "Join the rest of the school, then. I don't care about it one way or another."

"I think I'm sad," Draco says quietly, snuggling deeper into Harry. "I was hoping to eventually become friends with 'Ville, but I don't think that's possible anymore…"

"We're all decided, then?" Lavender says, pushing Harry's hand away from Draco to pull him up. "The mad, the sad, and the…rad."

Harry blinks at her, standing up to put his arm around Draco's waist. "Rad?"

Lavender nods. "People like people who don't have opinions, because they just sit around going with what everyone else is doing. They accept everyone and like everything. That's why I'm _the rad_. Get going, now. I want answers just as much as you do."

"Maybe more," Harry mutters as Lavender takes Draco's hand to pull them along.

"Don't be absurd," Lavender says. "I'm rad, remember? I don't care about anything."

_**OoOoOoO**_

"It's kind of cold out, don't you think?" Millicent says from her spot beside Neville on the shore of the lake. She's bundled up in all sorts of scarves, but Neville is just in jeans and a t-shirt.

"Yeah," Neville says distantly. "It's nice, isn't it?"

"You're losin' it, Neville. What if Harry doesn't even care? You're his best friend, right?"

"Wrong," a voice says behind them. Neville and Millicent turn around to see Harry, Malfoy, and Brown striding towards them _with a purpose_.

Millicent is instantly up on her feet to meet them, but Neville just turns around on the ground. He really doesn't care anymore. Everyone hates him, anyway, and it's all his fault. He and Millicent were arguing…

…  
_**FLASHBACK**_  
…

"_I just can't do this anymore, Neville!" Millicent says loudly in the empty corridor. "I know I promised, but it's not…not right!"_

"_And why not?" Neville says, looking across at her angrily. "You know full well what you were getting into when you agreed!"_

"_Yeah, but I happen to have started actually liking you!"_

_Neville stops and blinks at her. "You don't…"_

_Millicent nods without unlocking her eyes from his. "It's not very intense. Just one of those itches, you know?"_

_Neville sighs. "We SHOULD stop, then. I don't want it to get worse. I'm still…" He trails off._

"_Still not over him?"_

"_Bingo."_

"_So, what, we make a big stink about it in the Great Hall or something?"_

"_No need for THAT one," a voice says from an open door beside them._

_Neville and Millicent look alarmingly at the door as two Ravenclaw seventh years named Cho Chang and Marietta Edgecombe walk out of it. Neville didn't even know their dating had spreading to Ravenclaw caring knowledge! Then again, Blaise's girlfriend—Silvi, was that her name? Neville thinks that's it—is a Ravenclaw, so it is possible..._

"_All of this is a fake, then, is it?" Edgecombe says, crossing her arms. "Wait until Silvi hears about THIS!"_

"_No!" Millicent says, waving her arms silently. "You can't tell anybody!"_

"_Actually, we CAN," Chang says. "Besides, we don't owe either of you anything—so we WILL tell." And then they're gone, running down the corridor to inform the school about Neville and Millicent's tall tale of a relationship._

….…  
_**END FLASHBACK**_  
….…

And it had all gone downhill from there. The two Ravenclaw girls had told people, and the people they told told people, and it ended up by the next afternoon that the entire school—students, professors, ghosts, etcetera—knew about it, and all of them but the professors no longer wanted to be associated with him and Millicent. The worst part was that Millicent actually likes people, and now she can't talk to any of them. Neville only hung out with Harry, Greg, or Blaise anyway. Now Greg hangs around Crabbe, and Blaise is with Silvi—not to mention they're mad as well, anyway.

"Do you hate us, too?" Neville asks quietly, looking at Harry. He sees Brown and Malfoy turn to look at him, waiting for an answer, with his peripheral vision.

Harry's glaring intently at Neville. "No," he says. "I'm just mad and...and confused. I understand why you did it, I think, but I want to hear it from yourself. Why?"

Neville shrugs. "So you'd stop worrying. I was holding you back, and that's not fair. You're Harry sodding Potter; you can't be around people who drag you down. And I was pretty good at that, so I got together with Mill. She knows about everything; that was the condition. She pretends to date me and I tell her the stories."

The anger in Harry's face deepens. "So she knows everything?"

Neville nods.

"Wow, Neville. Fuck you." Neville manages to hold back his flinch. "I keep all of your secrets, and you sell mine to make me feel better? Why didn't you just jump off a cliff? It would have made everybody happier."

Neville can't hold back this flinch, and Millicent gasps.

"Harry!" Malfoy says, also appalled.

Lavender stays silent.

"Stay out of this, Draco," Harry snaps. "Actually..." He turns back to Neville. "I'm going to stay out of this, too. Don't talk to me—don't even look at me. Don't even—oh, forget it. I'm leaving." Harry spins around and walks away with the same purpose that he shows up with.

Malfoy and Brown blink after him, and after an apologetic glance Malfoy follows, catching up to Harry. Neville can hear his reproving voice from here, and if he didn't hate him so much he would be thankful. Brown leaves slower, pursing her lips as she walks away. Her hands are shoved into her pockets and she keeps looking back, until she's far enough away that they can hardly see her at all.

"I guess Harry did care," Millicent says quietly, sitting back beside Neville on the grass.

"Shut up, Mill," Neville says, pushing her shoulder. It's not in a friendly way.

_**OoOoOoO**_

_Three weeks later..._

The next three weeks are a great big glob of touchy feelings, bickering tongues, and bitter resentment. No matter how nice anybody is (which nobody is), the other replies with a snap. The professors can't do anything about it, and the ghosts and portraits are fueling it. They've gotten this message around that says if _Harr_y is moody, they're _all_ moody.

The only relationships that don't seem to be altered are with mo more than two at a time, those pairs being Draco and Harry, Neville and Millicent, Ron and Hermione, Blaise and Silvi, and Vince and Greg. Even Lavender has started snapping for no apparent reason. The Houses as a whole are getting along better than ever, but as soon as it comes to individuals it's war.

Draco did everything he could to make Harry feel better, but all his green-eyed boy could ever think about was Neville. He still acted and sounded the same, but whenever Neville and/or Millicent were around he plastered on a death-glare. Even Peeves didn't want to be around him in a bad mood.

But Draco isn't holding up very well, either. He and Harry had just breeched that spot in the relationship that's supposed to make everything better, but then Neville had to go along and ruin it all. One day, while Harry was practicing with his team for Quidditch, when Draco was on the underside of the stands to walk up to watch him fly, he just broke down into tears. He knew that if he had just stayed out of everything none of it would have happened—then again, he wouldn't have something so beautiful with Harry, either, and somehow all of this was worth it, no matter this ultimate down that had come along.

Colin Creevey had eventually found him (he was looking for him to get him with Harry for a picture anyway), and even though Draco was sure he was going to run out and tell Harry the instant their eyes met, Colin instead helped Draco wipe away his tears with a heavy sigh. "It's alright," he had said, fixing Draco's hair. "Everything will be back to normal soon enough. You'll see. Everything is going to be great."

Two weeks since the incident, Draco wishes he still believed the sixth year.

But now, those two weeks later, Draco is standing in front of the sixth year Slytherin boys' dorm door, tears all gone. Blaise gave him the password (what on earth is a _buckle bunny?) _without a second thought; Harry is on the Quidditch pitch again, and since Greg is one of the Beaters, Neville is the only one in here (and he knows he's here, because Millicent is in the common room and she said he was).

Taking a deep breath, Draco pushes open the door without knocking.

Neville is sitting on the ground, staring out of the fake window, his homework spread around him. He looks tiredly over at Draco, and then right back at the window.

Draco gives him a confused look. He was ready for the Slytherin to explode at him, but to completely ignore him is not on his list of possibilities.

But then Neville's head snaps back to Draco in a double take, eyes wide and full of hate.

_There we go_, Draco thinks, resisting the urge to smirk.

"Don't you know Harry's with the team for practice?" Neville asks darkly.

"I'm aware," Draco replies quietly. "I'm here to talk to you."

He looks confused for a second until he plasters a glare on his face. "Thanks, but only a Gryffindor would be curious enough to listen to his least favorite person in the world tell him something. You can leave now, unless of course you'd like to be hexed. The dorms will do it themselves as soon as you leave, and I won't help you through them."

Draco resists the urge to smirk again. "Actually, Blaise let me in here, so nothing will happen to me since a member of the dorms gave me permission. Also, no, I will not leave." He crosses the room to Harry's bed and lean against it. "We need to talk about Harry."

Neville frowns both sadly and angrily—a feat, Draco must admit. "I don't want to talk about Harry."

"You want his friendship back, though, don't you?"

Now he just looks sad. "Why are you here, Malfoy?"

The blond sighs. "I'm sure you've noticed the fact that the entire castle is being…moody. I'm here to change that."

Neville sets down his quill. "I'm listening."

"Without beating around any bushes, I think the reason the entire castle is pissed off at everything is solely placed on his and my getting together."

Neville cocks an eyebrow. "Continue…"

"You see, if it I hadn't of gotten together with Harry, you and him would still be friends, and you never would have gotten together with 'Cent, and then the castle would be happy."

"But what about Hermione and Weasley?"

"Ron? I don't think they would have gone public about it, since Harry and I weren't. I almost don't even think they would have gotten together, because my hanging around Harry probably fuelled their…relationship. Do you even know how they got together? Lavender doesn't know anything, and Ron's always with her so I can't ask."

"Don't you guys sleep in the same dorm? Can't you ask him there? Because I don't know anything either."

"No, because he's either back too late for me to ask or he's asleep before I show up—and he's legitimately asleep. I know how to check."

"Looks like we're both in the dark for a while more, then."

"Mmm, yes. Anyway, about Harry. I promised I wouldn't tell you this, but I'm breaking that promise—tell anyone besides 'Cent and I'll skin you alive and then sow the skin back on, understand?"

"Um, why are you okay with me telling Mill?"

"Aside from Harry, she's the only Slytherin our age that I trust, because she's good at keeping secrets. Besides, she and I agreed to be friends a long time ago. I want to honor that."

"What, you assume that everyone who's your friend is going to keep your secrets? Your friends are the ones who backstab you first."

Draco knows he's referring to Harry and the rest, and it honestly makes him mad. "Longbottom, you're a prat. If it wasn't for your stupid feelings none of this would have happened. Sure, it's my fault in a sense, but even if Harry and I weren't together we'd still secretly like each other, and you'd still be a jealous git. Harry told me that he's not going to forgive you until you apologize to him, so get off your_ long_ fucking _bottom_ and tell him you wish none of it happened—because I know that's what you're thinking. Apologize like it's the last thing you're ever going to do, because if you don't I'll tell 'Cent to make you, and if that doesn't work I will make your life a _hell_, because that's what mine is because of your pathetic brooding!

"I wanted to be friends with you, you idiot, but when I found out about all of this I knew that it wasn't going to happen because you actually hated being instead of just tolerated me. Well, guess what? I've had to tolerate you for the past _three weeks_, because you're the only thing that Harry thinks or talks about. He doesn't sleep well, he doesn't want to sleep _with_ anybody, and he doesn't finish his homework—though I see _you're_ doing _fine_ with that. This Halloween weekend was the closest Harry and I have ever been in every way, and you're being wretched is _ruining_ it. And don't you _dare_ tell me that you've been trying to get his friendship back, because I watch you, and you deliberately avoid him. If you were trying you would actually _try_. I'm sick of everything being about you, alright? DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT."

Draco is all but screaming when he finishes, and the pissed-off face he was expecting Neville to have is nonexistent. He looks frightened, sad, tried, and maybe even a little bit guilty. He looks over at the fake window, so Draco takes that opportunity to lie back on the bed and catch his breath. He remembers at the end of fifth year, when George was talking to him about Harry…

…  
_**FLASHBACK**_  
…

"_Speaking of which," Draco says, "why are you here talking to me, having the door guarded by Ron, instead of Fred being here?"_

"_Well, Ron is here because it's his House, and I'm here because talking to an enemy has always been so much more effective than being yelled at by a friend. This way it doesn't really hurt; it only gets it more solidly through your head."_

"_Then why is Fred going to Harry? He didn't do anything wrong…"_

"_I never said anything about it having to be something wrong. It works in reassuring somebody as well. Let's pretend you're still crying, and suddenly Gin rushes in here and tells you to buck up and go out and get your man back. Really, if it was a friend you'd push them away because you know them well enough, but if they were an enemy you would want to prove to them that you could do it by going out and doing it. It's simple, really…"_

….…  
_**END FLASHBACK**_  
….…

That was the main reason he went through with his plan to talk to Neville. He just hopes it works...

"Malfoy?" Neville whispers from his spot on the floor.

Draco sits up with a half frown on his face. "What, 'Ville?"

"Will you come to the Quidditch pitch with me? I need to talk to Harry."

Draco literally collapses onto the floor in relief. "Neville," he says, pushing himself back up so that his face isn't pressed into the dirty stone floor. "I've never been happier that I've gone completely off at somebody before. Thank you for making me mad at you."

"Yeah, you're welcome. And, um, can you help me with this astronomy question? I was on it for like five minutes before you showed up and I have no idea what it means…"

Draco rolls his eyes heavenward. "It wasn't entirely my plan to help you with your homework, but sure. You promise to talk to Harry, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, I promise."

_**OoOoOoO**_

"No, Ginny!" Harry yells from above on his broom. "You're supposed to _block_ the Quaffle, not guide the thing in!"

"Like I did it on _purpose_!" Ginny screams back.

"Well it certainly _looked_ like you did!"

"Well I certainly _didn't_!"

"I don't care! Try harder! We have a match in two days and you're going to _ruin_ it!"

"_I'm_ going to ruin it?" Ginny flies higher up so that she's level with Harry. "_You're_ the one being an absolute _prat_! You're yelling at everybody and making all of us scared of you! You know we don't do anything right when you're angry at us!"

"Well if you _hadn't_ noticed, we're _all_ angry at _each other_! So just get over mine and deal with your own!"

"Harry!" somebody yells, and Harry turns to see Colin Creevey flying up to him on his own broom. He's not part of any Quidditch team, but he flies around taking pictures, not to mention he's nearly the only one in the entire school that hasn't been affected by everything that's happened these last three weeks. In fact, he acts as though nothing's even happened. Not around Harry, at any rate. He was the only Gryffindor that Harry was okay with being around since the beginning.

"What do you want, Colin?" Harry asks grumpily. "I'm trying to make my team better, here."

"_Better_," Ginny scoffs, turning around. "And he thinks _I'm_ going to ruin us." She flies back down to the goal posts, grumbling unintelligibly.

Harry sighs. "I'm sorry, Colin. What do you want?"

"There are some people here to see you," Colin says, turning around and motioning for Harry to follow.

Harry scans stands and sees no one. "Who?"

"You know them, don't worry. Come on, there down by the other goal posts."

And then Harry sees them.

"No," he says, grabbing Colin's shoulder. "I'm not going down there."

"Harry," Colin says, rolling his eyes. "You've got to trust me with this one. He just wants to talk."

"I don't want to talk to _either_ of them!"

Colin's aura of none of this affecting him falters. "You don't want to talk to your own boyfriend?"

"No, because he's going to tell me to forgive Neville, and I told him, I'm not going to forgive him until _he_ apologizes to _me_!"

The aura is back as Colin rolls his eyes. "Didn't I tell you to trust me, you idiot? Come with me or I'll tell Draco you're breaking up with him."

Harry's jaw drops. "You wouldn't."

"I'm a Gryffindor. You never know _what_ will happen." He winks and zooms downward in an elegant dive. Even Harry is impressed, but not as much as he would be if Colin didn't have the intention of ruining his relationship.

So he flies down after him, grumbling unhappily to himself all the way.

"Hey, Drake," Harry says, kissing him on the cheek. "I was wondering when you'd show up. Did you finish all of your homework you were doing?"

Draco smiles guiltily at him "I, uh, brought you something," he says. "Don't hate me."

Harry frowns. "Why would I hate you? What did you do?"

His only reply is a motion to Neville.

So Harry presses his lips into a hard line and forces himself to turn to his fellow Slytherin. "What do you want?"

Neville takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I'm an idiot and I'm pathetic and I'm a complete and total arse, and I should have just told you the truth from the beginning. I still stand by what I said when I said I didn't want to be holding you back, but I should have let you keep moving forward in a different way. I'm sorry for telling Mill everything and for acting like it didn't even matter and I'm sorry about anything else that I've ever done to you that you haven't liked. I'm sorry, Harry. I miss you. Draco told…" He sighs. "Draco told me that he promised you that he wouldn't tell me or anybody else to tell me that you would only forgive me if I apologized…that's the only reason I'm here right now because I was afraid you would just _Crucio_ me. Could you ever forgive me, Harry? Please?"

Harry's mind is running. Draco broke his promise. Neville is finally apologizing to him. He doesn't even care that Draco broke his promise. He wants to forgive Neville. Neville seems like he truly means it…and he also has an extremely unattractive part in his hair right now…Harry thinks that he needs a shower. If Neville needs a shower then he's definitely losing sleep over something, and it's obvious what it is.

But Harry happens to think about all of these things in under one second, and in the rest of that second he launches himself across the short distance between himself and Neville, throwing his arms around the other boy in a hug.

_**OoOoOoO**_

Neville's mind stops working.

Harry's looking at him without a glare?

Harry's talking to him?

Harry's _hugging_ him?

Beside him, Draco motions with his hands for Neville to move.

Neville cocks an eyebrow at him and mouths, "What?" at the blond.

"Hug him back," Draco mouths back to him.

Oh, right, he was being hugged, wasn't he…?

His arms move of their own accord, and he wraps his arms tightly around Harry's waist, because the dark haired Slytherin has his arms around Neville's neck.

It's so weird…almost wrong. He loves Harry, but his boyfriend's standing right beside them, and Colin Creevey is practically biting off his bottom lip (probably to keep himself from taking a picture), and everything feels so exposed and so… wrong.

"Harry," Neville says, pushing him away. "Not that I don't love your hugs or anything, but it's not really helping."

"Right," Harry says, taking a couple of steps away. "Sorry."

_**OoOoOoO**_

Draco can't help but smile. He doesn't care if Harry hugs anybody. He's not that jealous. If Neville had hugged him at the beginning of the year, though, he would have been a little irked.

He doesn't care now, though.

Colin is right. Everything will be back to normal soon enough.

Draco looks over at Colin to see that the fifth year boy is already looking at him. Colin winks, and Draco can't help but to smile back at him—a bigger smile than he's had in ages.

Yes, Colin is right. Everything is going to be great.

_**OoOoOoO**_

_The next afternoon…_

"You're a lizard, Harry!" the giant lizard says happily.

Harry frowns. "I'm a _what_?"

"Harry!" the giant lizard says. "Harry, wake up!"

Harry finds himself being shaken awake from his dream, and Hermione is the one shaking him.

"Uuugh…" he says, rubbing his forehead against the table.

"Shh!" she says. "Slughorn is going to come over here unless you look like you're paying attention! Wake Neville up!"

"Harry is sitting up in seconds. He forgot completely that he was in the middle of potions class.

He reaches over and pushes at Neville's shoulders, and the other boy is up instantly, looking completely interested in the lesson.

"Good thing you're good at that," Harry mutters, discretely rubbing his eyes.

The night before, Harry had gotten only three hours of sleep. He would have gotten more, but Neville and Greg had pulled a whip cream-involved prank on him, and it took two entire hours to clean up, even _with_ magic. Neville and Greg only got two hours, though, because it took them about three hours to set everything up—yes, it was that elaborate. Blaise, on the other hand, didn't even get an entire hour. The four dorm mates had all forgiven each other become friends again (proof that everything was all about Harry, really...), and firewhiskey was the decided celebrating partner. (Harry was displeased to find that he still couldn't stomach alcohol without it being watered down almost completely. Getting drunk was just no fun that way.)

Harry is nearly back to sleep when there's a knock at the door of the classroom. It doesn't wait to be opened, though; it bangs open, and Draco practically runs into the room, Professor McGonagall coming in after him.

"Mr. Potter," she says, "come with us immediately."

At her words, Draco burst into tears. It doesn't matter that Harry is about to pass out again; he's up and over to Draco in under a second, with his arms wrapped tightly around his blond. He doesn't let go of Draco as McGonagall ushers them out of the room, the class in an uproar of whispers behind them. Draco doesn't stop crying as McGonagall leads them to the place that Dumbledore's office is. She goes inside with them, and Dumbledore is pacing around the room, and his pensieve is sitting out, and Fawkes is whimpering like only a phoenix can do on his perch.

"What's going on?" Harry asks after McGonagall conjures up a decently sized chair for him and Draco to share. "What's happening?"

Dumbledore stops pacing, turns to Harry, and sighs one of those dignified sighs that Narcissa and Snape are so good at. McGonagall leaves the office, a quiet whimper on her lips. Draco's not crying so hard anymore, but he has his face buried in Harry's chest, sniffing deeply.

"Mrs. Malfoy came to the school today," Dumbledore says quietly, conjuring up a large cushioned chair for the boys, and then a less comfortable looking chair for himself. "Her two reasons for the visit were to give her son a hug, and to deliver him a letter so that it would have no chance of being intercepted." Dumbledore picks up an elegant looking envelope from a table beside him. "Draco and I need you to read this, Harry."

He hands it out to the Slytherin, and Harry takes it tentatively. It's a black envelope, with words written across in an ink that shimmers from silver to blue depending on the way the light hits it when Harry tilts it. Harry pulls the off-white parchment out of the envelope, and the ink is the same blue as the front, though it doesn't change to any other colour.

/

_Darling Draco,  
Severus will be glad to know that I did not send this with him. Please show him this as soon as you are finished with it. He will know what to do with it.  
The Dark Lord is coming for you. He decided that it would be a good idea to do what he decided not to do earlier this summer. I am sorry. I am so, so sorry. I tried to figure out a way to change his mind—quite a few of us did, including Severus and Thane (you remember Vincent Crabbe's father, of course?). You need to run and hide yourself, Draco. I cannot tell you why, but your being in danger of becoming like your father is only imminent for the next thirty days. If you can stay away from him for that month long period, you will be safe of the Mark for the rest of the year. That I am sure of, as is Severus, and he is as close to the Dark Lord as he can be. More so than even Bellatrix, I believe...but probably not.  
I cannot help you, Draco. They know I am feeling disloyal. I will not be able to see or send you any letters for this next month for this very purpose. I love you. Do not give up. It will get better.  
With deep love, your mother, Narcissa Malfoy  
Post Script: Do show this to Dumbledore as well as Severus. Severus will tell him anyway, so you might as well do it on your own accord. I love you again._

/

Harry can't remember the last time that he held somebody so tightly. The letter and envelope float lazily to the ground as he crushes Draco to him. He doesn't cry—he's too frightened to cry—but he's close.

As Dumbledore silently summons the letter to him, Harry chokes out, "What's going to happen to him?" as he rubs his thumb along the back of Draco's neck.

"It will interest you to know that I have already involved the Order in this matter. Lupin and Professor Snape came up with a brilliant idea, but I wanted to run it by you first."

"Tell me."

"As you read in the letter, the danger is only eminent for the next month, for whatever reason Narcissa could not tell us. Remus and Severus have come up with the idea of sending Draco to your aunt and uncles."

Harry chokes on his breath, and he coughs. "The Dursley's? They'll eat him alive!"

"It is the only way, Harry," Dumbledore says sadly. The old man's eyes are usually twinkling brighter than any star ever could, but right now his face is sad. His twinkling has gone out, and Harry hopes that he never sees the Headmaster this sad looking ever again. "None can think of any other alternative."

Harry almost starts to cry. He bits his bottom lip and looks down at Draco, who still has his face buried in his chest. His hands are gripping onto Harry's shirt, and his legs are curled up underneath him. If he didn't still have tears in his eyes he would look so peaceful...

"It has already been suggested to Draco," Dumbledore says, so Harry looks back up at him. "He agrees as long as you agree as well."

When Harry looks down again, Draco is looking up at him. "I've heard the stories," Draco whispers scratchily. He must have been crying even before he came to get Harry... "I know they'll hate me, but I'll be safe there. Dumbledore can't explain to me why, but he says that you know, and that's all I care about."

Harry presses his lips into a tight line. "I just feel like, if I say yes, that I'm sending you to your imminent doom..."

"Better than being trapped like my father's been since before he even graduated from this place."

Harry can't disagree with that, so he says to Dumbledore, "Alright, I agree."

Dumbledore nods. "Draco will be taken to the Dursley's today. The house elves will pack his things, and three members of the Order will take him there." He stands up from his chair. "You both have three completely uninterrupted hours to do whatever you wish before Draco is taken away. But I must ask you not to leave this office. It will start unnecessary questions, and I believe everything you need is in this room." Dumbledore pushes the pensive back into its compartment, and without another word he walks out. Fawkes flies after him, and Harry just glimpses the bird landing on the old Headmasters shoulder as the door closes behind him.

He only barely turns back to Draco when the blond's lips crash into his.

Both boys tear ferally at each other, ripping off clothes and touching everywhere that their hands can reach on the other. Harry doesn't even care that the portraits of every Hogwarts Headmaster/Headmistress are surrounding them; if they want to watch, let them—if they don't, they can visit a portrait elsewhere.

The boys end up rolling off of the large chair and onto the rug, only a few pieces of clothing still clinging to their bodies.

"Love me, Harry," Draco whispers into Harry's mouth.

"I do love you," Harry says as he delves his tongue into Draco's open mouth.

When he pulls away to breath, Draco breathes words: "_Show me_."

Harry's entire body ripples, and he sees Draco's eyes begin to dark with lust. The rest of the clothes are gone in seconds; portraits scream, but the boy signore them.

"Get on your hands and knees," Harry says huskily.

Draco takes his hand first, saying the lubricant spell with his wand pointed into Harry's hand. Then he does, watching Harry over his shoulder.

Harry coats his fingers in the lube, and bending over his blond so that his mouth is at his shoulder blade he rubs them around the opening. Draco's teeth bite onto his bottom lip. Grinning seductively, he pushes a finger inside. Draco gives a sharp intake of breath and his eyes darken even more. _In_ and _out_. Harry sticks in two, and Draco's eyes flutter shut. _Slide_, _slide_, _slide_. Harry sticks in three, and Draco's head drops to a hanging position.

When Harry's stretched the Gryffindor enough he leans back, and showing off just a bit he uses the lubricant spell perfectly. Unlike Draco did last time, Harry coats his cock in as little time as possible, and then positions himself just outside of Draco's opening, his hands positioned on his hips.

He's about to speak, but Draco beats him to it: "Don't even ask if I'm ready. Just do it. Don't go slow at all; I don't want to be stretched. I just want you inside of me, alright?" His voice is four times huskier than Harry's could ever be, and it goads Harry on instantly.

He pushes inside hard, and Draco lets out a small squeak, and Harry almost comes inside of him right there. The tightness and the heat is nearly too much for him—but he's a Slytherin; he can do this.

"You alright?" he asks, leaning back over the blond so that his mouth his at his ear. He barely reaches, considering that Draco is taller than him, but he's managing.

"Yeah," Draco grunts. "_Move_."

Harry pulls out of Draco until only the head is still submerged, and then slams back into Draco as deep as he can go, his balls pressing against the skin of Draco's arse. And he keeps going, pulling out and pushing back in, and he's pretty sure it's even greater than having Draco inside of _him_. Draco only whimpers twice more before they turn into moans, and Harry's moaning right along with him. He changes the angle ever so often, trying his best to find what Draco found inside of him.

And right about then Draco moans louder than he has this entire time, and Harry smiles. "There it is," he manages to whisper around his bliss. Draco starts to rock back and forth, slamming himself back into Harry as the Slytherin first plunges into him. Remembering how lonely his own cock had been back at the beach house, Harry reaches around Draco's hips and takes a hold of the pulsing hard member. Draco gives a pleasured gasps when Harry makes contact, and he pumps the Gryffindor as he continues to plunge inside of him.

And then Draco's moaning Harry's name, loud and hard and clear, and he spills over Harry's hand. Harry leans up and closes his eyes in ecstasy as he pumps Draco down to his last drops, and when he's finally finished he brings his hand up to lick his fingers off. He doesn't get very far with it, though; the taste sends him over the edge, and the next thing he knows he's moaning Draco's name, and he drops the cum-covered hand to the pillow as he plunges one last, deep time inside of Draco.

When Harry's cock is completely spent, he pulls out of Draco with a soft pop. The Gryffindor collapses onto the pillow, and Harry barely manages to move a few inches to the side so not every ounce of his body weight drops onto his blond. His only getting three hours of sleep is definitely not helping.

Draco turns his head so that he's facing Harry, and he smiles lazily at him. "I hate to admit it, but I think I like it better when you top."

Harry gives a tired chuckle. "Good, because I'm pretty sure I like it better too."

The cum on his fingers is cold, now, so Harry grabs his wand that he dropped beside the pillow and uses a simple cleaning spell on it. He cleans up the rest of the spunk, too, while he's at it.

When he snuggles back up to Draco, the blond looks like he's about to cry again.

"I love you," Harry says, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "We'll get through this. I know we will."

"We have to," Draco whispers back, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. "I don't know what I'd do if we didn't."

Harry sighs and puts his arm over Draco's shoulder, bending it so that his fingers can play with his hair. "I don't know what I'm going to do without you, Drake," he says, giving him a sad look. "You're nearly the only thing here that keeps be really going. I'm going to be a giant blob of depression without you."

"You're telling that to _me_?" Draco asks, rolling onto his side. "You're not the one who gets to spend a month of school with the worse muggle family on the planet."

Harry sighs. "Yeah, you're right, I'm sorry. I just...dammit, Draco! I don't want you to leave! Can't I come with you?"

Draco shakes his head no. "I already asked. Dumbledore told me not to mention it to you so you wouldn't think about it either. You can talk to him about it when I've gone."

Harry wants to cry again, so he sits up. He's hoping gravity will pull his tears back down into his body or something equally stupid.

Draco sits up as well and presses his body into his, not as something sexual, but just to be closer to him. "We still have over an hour," he says. "Do you want to help me write my letters to people so they know where I've gone?"

Harry sighs, turning to his blond. "Yeah, I'd love to. Let's get dressed."

And so they do, Draco absentmindedly helping Harry get dressed as well as Harry helping him.

_**OoOoOoO**_

Basically, Draco and Harry wrote the exact same things for every letter. They wrote for Ron, Pansy, Vince, Dean, Seamus, Lavender, Millicent, and Fred. Lavender, Millicent, and Fred's (also with messages to George since he'll read it anyway—"I want to right something to George, too," Harry had said) are the only ones who get something completely different than the rest.

While writing Lavender's, Draco had muttered, "I feel like I'm writing an essay."

"I know how you feel," Harry had replied. "There are just too many things to thank her for, and you know she'll kill you without all of the details."

They're done with the letters, now, and during it they talked about everything from their love to the best hiding places at the Dursley's (there are not many, Draco is sad to learn) to Voldemort's pet snake Nagini. (Draco told Harry she was the reason that mother didn't like snakes. Hardly any of the Death Eater's like them anymore, aside from Snape and Bellatrix—though he didn't tell Harry about Snape.) They talked about the homework Draco would either be owled or exempt from, and how Harry would make copies of all of his so Draco wouldn't have to do it if he did have to.

"We only have thirty more minutes before I leave," Draco says, looking up at Harry from their pile of sealed letters. They got all of the materials from the office around them.

Harry looks back at Draco. He hadn't cried yet, but a tear trails down his nose, then. And then he's really crying, his arms wrapped around his stomach and head hanging. Draco pulls him into his arms and holds him; tears don't even threaten to swell out of his own eyes, because he's all cried out.

"You didn't sleep very much last night, did you?" Draco asked his green-eyed boy quietly.

"I was up all night drinking," Harry says around his tears. "It's embarrassing because I'm a Slytherin, but I can't stomach anything unless it's completely watered down—not to mention I'm a total lightweight."

Draco chuckles. "Funny, I never would have guessed. I was up nearly all night with my own year. 'Mione came over, too, you know. She told me her and Ron's story, if you want to hear it."

Harry pulls away from Draco's arms to look at his face. "Hell yes I want to hear it! And that's funny that she was there, because she was wide-awake in Potions. In fact, she's the one who woke Neville and me up."

Draco gives him a dumb look. "Didn't you think of Wake-Up Drought? 'Ender gave all of us some."

Harry purses his lips. "Yeah, but we couldn't find any. Hermione probably had it all. Anyway, tell me their story."

Draco smiles. "Apparently they've been dating since the middle of fifth year. They met because of Ginny, of course, and that's about it. The more they saw each other, the more they wanted to know each other. It's actually quite simple. Anyway, 'Mione spends her life in the library, as we all well know, and apparently Ron just went up and sat with her one day in this secluded area she likes. They didn't talk for an hour before 'Mione asked him if he's read _Hogwarts, A History_. Obviously he said no, so she started telling him all about it."

Harry snorts. "How like Hermione, building her relationship off of a book. Is that it?"

Draco nods. "It's quite boring, in all honesty. Much less fun than ours. But it works."

Harry leans forward and kisses Draco softly, and the boys stay that way until their time is up, holding each other and kissing softly and touching lightly.

And then the door to the office begins to open, so Draco and Harry pull their lips sadly apart to see who it is.

In walk Dumbledore, ex-Auror Mad-Eye Moody, ex-Professor Lupin, and an emotionally sad looking girl with sandy coloured hair.

"Hiyuh, Harry," the girl says in a cheery voice, but her eyes stay sad.

"Hello, Harry," Lupin says with a sad nod. "Hello, Draco."

"Afternoon, Harry," Moody says in a deep, scratchy voice. He gives Draco an awkward look. "Nice to see you again, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco shifts himself behind Harry more. "Um, hi." Of course he's terrified of Moody. No, he never actually turned him into a ferret...that was Barty Crouch Jr. But the fact is, somebody did that looked just _like_ Moody, and Draco can't get over that.

"Time to go, Draco," Dumbledore says quietly. "We'll come to get you again when this month is over."

Draco and Harry get into standing positions, both sighing. Then they give each other one last, long, loving look, and Draco follows the girl, Lupin, and Moody out of the office. The doors shut behind them, and Draco just barely catches a glimpse of Harry, sitting down on the giant pillow with his head in his hands.

_**XxX**_

"You'll be in Harry's room," Mr. Vernon Dursley says unhappily as he forces his fat body up the stairs. Skinny Mrs. Petunia Dursley is behind Draco and his magically moving trunks (Moody said that the Ministry thinks Draco's still at Hogwarts, so he can still use magic), and thickly built Dudley is still standing at the bottom, staring up at Draco with a frightened look.

When they get to the room, Draco practically faints. It's so _small_. Harry spends his summers in _here_? Draco is appalled.

"We expect silence out of you at all times," Vernon growls, pointing a fat finger at Draco.

Draco nods, but he's really planning on ruining the lives of all three of the Dursley's. Anybody who treats his boyfriend like dirt is in trouble.

They leave him to himself then, and Draco pulls out his wand to magically enlarge and decorate the place right away. He enlarges the room three times its original size, adding a four-poster bed, and chooses the colours red and green to decorate in honor of both the Christmas holiday and Harry.

He had to leave River at school, which he's quite alright with. He's kind of glad that Harry doesn't have his own owl, too. He can't imagine the poor little snowy owl that Harry wants living in a room so small. And Harry had had bars on his windows in second year? Sweet Merlin, the Dursley's are going to wish they never even existed.

After the room is in order, he lies down on the bed.

"I hate everything," he says to the ceiling.

And then he sleeps.

* * *

References: 1. _"You're a lizard, Harry!" the giant lizard says happily.  
Harry frowns. "I'm a _what_?"_  
This I got from tumblr, thanks to the wonderful Harry Potter fandom that I am way too proud to be a part of! :)

/

A/N: In case you forgot, because it was like a million chapters ago that it was said and I haven't said it since, River is Draco's eagle owl.


	20. Year 6, Part X

**Year Six, Part X: Ashley Street**

Beginning chapter A/N's: This is dedicated to the best friend of my seventh grade and part of eighth grade years, Ashley. If it wasn't for her I wouldn't have cared so much about random street names and the things that they might but probably don't have a bigger purpose for.

* * *

Harry wakes up the next morning with a sheen of sweat over his entire body and tears in his eyes.

_He's dead_, is the first thing that he thinks once he opens his eyes.

Harry looks around and sees that he's in the Slytherin sixth year boys' room, back in his regular bed, the curtains drawn tightly around him, and in nothing but his underwear.

_Oh. A nightmare. Merlin, that felt real..._

With an aggravated sigh, Harry uses his blanket (even though it's mostly soaked with sweat as well) to wipe away the visible layer of gloss on his body, and then he uses his hands to get rid of the tear remnants in his eyes.

_Ugh, what a wonderful way to start my miserable month at Hogwarts_, he thinks darkly.

Peeking through the curtain around his bed, he sees that it's completely empty.

Great, he's late for his classes. Another wonderful thing to add to this first miserable month.

He pushes open his curtains and steps out of bed, and the second that his hands touch his trunk to grab things that he needs for a shower (because he certainly needs one, and he might as well take one and miss more classes since he's already missed some), the door bursts open to reveal Lavender.

"Oh, good, you're awake," she says, coming into the room as Harry scrambles to cover himself up. "Oh, quit it," she says, rolling her eyes. "You know I've already seen you. Hurry up and clean yourself up like your were planning; it's only the middle of breakfast, and if you hurry you'll have enough time to eat the food I snagged you." She reaches into her robes and pulls out a little box and a small flask. "I have pumpkin juice, bacon, eggs, and broccoli—not really sure why the vegetable suddenly showed up, but oh well."

Harry blinks at her, and a small smile forms on his face.

"Yes, yes, I'm amazing," she says, setting the food down. "Hurry up, now, or I'll eat the food myself! Also because I'll just be sitting here waiting for you."

Harry nods and heads to the door, but that's as far as he gets. "Hey, Lavender?"

"No getting all mushy on me until you're back!" she says, waving him away. "Go, go, go."

Harry is back in ten minutes from his drowning himself in tears in the shower, and when he walks into the dorm, Lavender is going through his trunks.

"Um..." he says.

She stands up and looks at him, her arms full of rubbish. "Oh, you're back. I see you brought your clothes with you to change into; good thinking. I'm just getting all of your books together. And picking out rubbish, because this thing is a mess." She sets the books on his bed. "Here's everything for your classes today. You'll have to come back at lunch to exchange for some different books." She pulls one last book from Harry's trunk and sets it on his bed, and that's when Harry sees the other pile of books beside it, plus his bag, parchment, and quills all set out. Hanging on one of the bed posts is a robe, at the foot of his bed is a pair of shoes, and his wand is sticking out behind Lavender's ear in a way that Luna would carry around her own wand.

Harry looks down at himself to see that he does not, in fact, have any of those things on him.

"Yes, Harry, you're very out of it," Lavender says, noticing that Harry went all the way to the bathroom and back without realizing he didn't have on any shoes. "I came in earlier to make sure you were up for breakfast, and you were lying on the floor in a tangled mess of sheets. I woke you up and pushed you back into the bed."

Harry blinks at her.

Lavender sighs. "I didn't think you would remember. I, uh...Dumbledore delivered all of Draco's letters for him."

Harry clamps his eyes shut and grits his teeth. _Don't fucking cry_, he thinks, balling his hands into fists. _Be a man. Be a _man_._

Lavender's arms wrap around Harry's shoulders, and he manages to straighten out his fingers.

"I'm here for you, Harry," she whispers. "You're not the only one that's sad about Draco not being here. We'll all help each other through this, alright?"

She steps away from Harry, and he opens his eyes and nods.

"Eat your breakfast, now," she says, motioning towards the box and flask. "I'm going to finish cleaning out your trunks."

_**XxX**_

_Three weeks later..._

A lot of things happen...but of lot of things stay the same, too.

Harry's nightmares don't stop. He falls asleep with Draco in his head every night, and the blond follows Harry into his dreams, and when he wakes up the images are burned onto the underside of his eyelids forever. Harry is stuck between reality and a nightmare, because he could never decipher if he was awake or not. Drifting from classroom to classroom, wanting to die does that to people.

Quidditch games are the only things that Harry can really do. Lavender thought that he'd bomb them all, but that was where he could take all of his anger out on people. He never loses a game to anyone, not that he would have anyway—now, though, the other Seeker's are afraid to be near him at all.

Classes don't go well at all, though. Harry can't pay attention to any lessons for the life of him, and if it wasn't for the fact that Lavender meets him in his common room to make him do his homework every night he would have failed everything. Apparently Dumbledore asked the professors to give Harry less homework than everybody else for the first week to give him time to adjust, but as soon as that week was over, the professors that were against he and the Gryffindor being together went right back to giving him mounds of it. Slughorn, Snape, and Trelawney are the only ones that continue to give him less as the month progressed.

Lavender also shows up in Harry's dorm to get everybody up in the morning, and she appointed Neville the bloke to make sure Harry _stayed_ out of bed, and then to also pay at least a bit of attention in classes that Lavender doesn't have with him. But Harry misses breakfast a lot, and even when he shows up for the other two meals he usually just stares at his plate a lot until somebody makes him at least drink some pumpkin juice. And even with Lavender _and_ Neville in the same class as Harry to make sure he does his work/pays attention, he really doesn't. Lavender usually does all of it for him (but not without a good smack to the head first), and sometimes his professors have to physically touch him to get him to answer one of their questions.

Out of all the sixth years in Slytherin and Gryffindor, only Lavender, Neville, and Blaise even _try_ to talk to him. All of the others—even most everybody else from other years and Houses—pretty much just ignore him. Lavender only leaves Harry's side when she's in the bathroom, sleeping, or doing her own homework, and when those times occur Neville is always with him, usually accompanied by Millicent. Blaise complained about Lavender being around for approximately fourteen hours before she cornered him and told him to back off or she'd bite of his cock (Silvi wasn't too happy about that, either, but Blaise knew that Lavender wasn't one to be trifled with—especially considering the fact that she's kind of tense with him since his grandma hasn't replied to his letter let. Blaise says that she's busy, and Harry knows that's true, but Lavender suspects that he's working against her).

There are rare occasions, though, when Harry manages to get away from both of his parents (it sometimes brings small tears to his eyes, but he refers to Lavender and Neville as "mum and dad", which they try not to laugh at) to sit around alone. He only goes to two places, though, so they find him relatively fast. He either goes to the owelry to watch the owls fly around, because he doesn't have one, and it reminds him that he wants one. He usually ends up falling asleep there, though, and when he finally wakes up he's either tucked into his bed or still in the owelry, but with Lavender or Neville sitting so that his head is in either of their laps. The second place is the lake, which he spends his time skipping stones at. He didn't know how to skip them, but after three weeks he's gotten pretty good at it. He'll have to teach Draco when he gets back...

It's an ugly business, trying to keep a friend from going off the deep end. But Lavender and Neville are very good at it, and he's told both of them that multiple times in numerous ways, probably the most by calling them mum and dad. One night, when Harry was feeling especially out of it, he found himself in the kitchen making a cake for his "parents". The house elves wanted to do all of it by themselves, but he managed to shoo them away to make it himself. He got large greetings from Dobby, Neon, Jericho, and Ashdod, but he didn't do very well at greeting them back. They got the hint, though, and went back to wherever it is that house elves go to do whatever it is that house elves do.

He was walking back to the common room when the cake was finally finished, and Lavender found him and nearly tore his head off. When she saw the tears in his eyes, though, she stopped and smiled at him, commenting on the cake.

When he told her it was for her and Neville, she practically melted. Harry knows she's not taking care of him to get something out of it, but he feels as though he owes her something. She's doing it because she loves Draco, so she automatically loves Harry—in terms of friendship, of course. Harry loves her in the same way. He would never love her in a romantic way. Even if he could, he wouldn't.

His love is reserved for someone else, and he would rather die than betray that love.

Harry cries about that a lot, too. Neville knows they'll never happen, but Harry still feels sorry for his fellow Slytherin. He loves Neville, but in the same way that he loves Lavender.

It's an ugly business, love. It causes hurt sometimes, but Harry wouldn't trade it for anything.

_**OoOoOoO**_

_The same three weeks later..._

Draco is running down a muggle roadway called Ashley Street. There are footsteps close behind, and his own voice is calling to him: "Wait, Draco! Wait!"

His voice has a body? No matter. He needs to keep going. There's something...important, on the other side. He just wishes he knew what it was.

Draco turns and runs across another roadway with the same name as the other—_Ashley Street_—and into a park. There's a large, thick archway there, and he runs through it.

He's here. This is where he needs to be. But he doesn't see anything. The important thing is...not here.

He turns around to see if his voice is still following him. It's not—but something taps his shoulder. Draco turns again to see Colin Creevey, but he's younger—he looks like he's in his first year again.

"Colin?" Draco asks.

"Welcome, Draco," he says. "We've been _dying_ to have you." And then he laughs an evil, mad-wizard kind of laugh. Draco's heard it before... It's the same laugh that Aunty Bella has, but in a male version.

Draco turns around for a third time to run away from Colin, but the archway and the park are gone. Now he's standing on a mountain-high platform. Below him—thousands of miles below him, though he could still make out the bottom—are what he can only describe as millions of demons-like creatures.

He summons his broom without the use of a wand and takes off over all of them to get as far from them all as he can, but as soon as he's above the crowd his broom disappears. He falls towards the demons, screaming at the top of his lungs. Just before he hits them, they disappear, and the ground turns into a black chasm for him to continue falling.

Time doesn't exist while he's falling—it's fast but it's slow; it's never ending, but it ends right away. But when time starts to work again, all of Draco's attention is on the spiked floor at the bottom.

Just before he's impaled he wakes up screaming as he sits bolt upright, sweat coating his entire body.

And he's not alone.

He sighs, staring across the room at Dudley, who's sitting in one of the comfortable chairs that Draco conjured up specifically for this purpose.

"Hey, Big D," Draco says tiredly, wiping the sleepies from his eyes. "I told you you'd wish I woulda put on silencing charms."

"You know I'd rather be woken up than leave you alone, though," Dudley says, tilting his Monster can up to his lips. Draco hates those things. He'd rather stick with fruit juice.

"Did he die again?" Dudley asks quietly.

Draco sighs. "No, he wasn't in it at all. It was really just a lot of random stuff. What time is it?"

"The same time it always is. Lunchtime. Come on down and eat something."

"Yeah, alright." Draco rolls out of the open canopy of the four-poster bed (he always leaves it open) he turned Harry's tiny bed into and pulls on Petunia's fluffy pink bathrobe (that he stole with permission and wears because it reminds him of home) to go down to the kitchen.

"Hello, baby!" Petunia says warmly, hugging Dudley tightly. "Good morning, Draco,' she says, hugging him with one arm. "I made bacon, eggs, sausage, pancakes, and apple butter!" she continues, motioning to the table.

That's what she always makes for lunch. Draco never manages to make it down to breakfast because he sleeps in so late (mostly because he stays up all night with Dudley and his friends), and since breakfast is usually the regular lunchtime meal, he doesn't care. He's never really liked lunch; it takes way too much time out of a day he could be doing something productive. Not that he's very productive, these days... Unless of course you count reading comic books and completely owning at all of Dudley's video games as being productive. (It was all weird to him at first, but the whole muggle concept has really grown on him since then).

"Vernon's off at work, of course," Petunia says. "He'll be bringing back steak for dinner, and I do believe Mark and Luke are coming over soon, right Dudley?"

Dudley nods as he and Draco sit down to eat. Draco never eats very well, but with a soft elbow from Dudley he usually finishes his plate.

Three weeks ago, Draco wouldn't have believed for a second that he'd be having a civilized meal with Harry's relatives. But he was, and it had been normal hardly a week into his being here.

He did get revenge on them with a few discrete spells his first full day here, but it ended almost instantly.

If it wasn't for Dudley, there's no way he would have gotten along with Harry's aunt and uncle. After he and Dudley became friends, Petunia and Vernon started treating him like one of Dudley's friends (way better than they used to treat him). It also helped that Draco got them used to magic, though; he cleaned all sorts of things up with simple spells that gave Petunia more time to herself, and he decorated with single words and was a perfect little houseguest/waiter whenever Vernon had some people from work over.

There was a story behind Draco and Dudley's friendship, though, of course. Draco had been sitting in the basement one day, reading a muggle book he found in Harry's room by some old bloke named J. R. R. Tolkien (Draco barely finished the book before starting on Dudley's comic books; it was hard enough to get through the first, let alone the other three sitting around), surrounded by mounds of video games. He went down there because he didn't like to be in his room, and Dudley and his friends were out tormenting neighborhood kids with snowballs, so he thought that he would be safe. Naturally, though, it didn't work out that way.

Dudley and his two closest friends, Mark and Luke (also known as Mickey and Rawr, which still makes Draco laugh), came down to the basement to play Halo 2 on the huge, flat screen television, and Draco didn't even have a chance of hiding in time...

…  
**_FLASHBACK_**  
…

"_Well lookit what we have HERE," Rawr (a skinny boy with sharp teeth and blond hair that sticks out even more than Harry's does, which explains HIS nickname) says, seeing Draco in one of the many beanbags. "Who's this, Big D?"_

_Dudley and Mickey (a boy with light brown hair and huge ears, which explains HIS name) enter the room after Rawr says that, and Dudley grins._

"_He's a friend of my cousins," Dudley says, closing the door behind him and the other two boys. "Draco Malfoy, he calls himself."_

"_You mean the green-eyed bloke?" Mickey asks. "With the wonky scar on his forehead?"_

_Dudley nods._

"_What kind of a name is DRACO?" Rawr asks, his nose up in a sneer._

"_It means dragon," Draco says quietly, closing his book. He's not looking for a fight. Far from it, actually. He just wants to get through this month without going TOO insane._

"_Sounds like a GIRLS name to me," Rawr says. "And you look like one, too."_

_Draco glances towards the door, planning his escape._

"_Oh, you think you're gonna make a run for it, do yuh?" Dudley asks, grinning. "We don't think so."_

_Dudley's friends suddenly sit in the beanbags beside him, and Dudley starts to set up the X-Box-360 device._

"_Whatchyuh readin'?" Mickey asks, snatching the book from Draco's hands._

"The Fellowship of the Ring_ by J. R. R. Tolkien," Draco replies quietly. He's GOT to get out of here..._

"_I thought the movies were dumb," Rawr says, snatching the book from Mickey and throwing it across the room. "And reading is a waste of time."_

Tell that to your grades_, Draco thinks darkly._

"_And what are you WEARING?" Rawr continues, fingering the baggy material at the thigh of Draco's Gryffindor pyjama pants._

_Draco cringes away from him, and the next thing he knows he's on the ground behind the beanbag he sat on top of, his arms held tightly down._

"_We know that cringe," Rawr, the one sitting on Draco's stomach, says. "We've gotten people into the hospital for giving us that cringe. Are you GAY, Malfoy?"_

_Draco fakes a disgusted look. "No, I just hate people. Get off of me."_

_Rawr and Mickey (who's holding Draco's arms) laugh. "We don't think—"_

_Draco happens to be the son of a Death Eater, though, and he's skilled in more than just magical combat. He's an even better hand-to-hand fighter than his father; better than any stupid boxer that Dudley watches on the television._

_Since Rawr's only on Draco's stomach, Draco uses all of his strength to swing his legs up backwards, which flips Rawr over and on top of Mickey, which is what cut off their voices. He leaps up to a standing position without using his hands, and before they can get up he kicks Rawr in the stomach and Mickey in the crotch. When he turns around to run, though, Dudley pushes him roughly back down into the beanbag._

"_Calm DOWN, Malfoy," he says, going over to help up his friends. "One guy in the hospital at a time."_

"_Ow," Mickey whimpers as Dudley plops him into the beanbag beside Draco, his hands still cupping himself through his pants._

"_That was so cool," Rawr says in a slight grunt, holding his stomach as he plops down in the SAME beanbag as Draco (Draco's glad they're big). "I've never had anybody able to flip me off of them before. You should teach us how to do that."_

_Draco shies away from him. "I would rather read, actually." He looks to Dudley. "Can I please go now?"_

_Dudley snorts and tosses him a remote control for the X-Box device. "We're not done with you yet," he says. "Play with us."_

….  
**_END FLASHBACK_**  
…..

Draco ended up being better than all three of them on his first try, and thus began the friendship of Draco and Dudley. Their relationship was built on being able to protect oneself and video games—as a wizard, Draco never would have known that the latter was so important.

It's gone to a real friendship now, so much so that whenever Dudley can't sleep (which is often, because he apparently has a strong case of insomnia, even without the Monster's) he comes into Draco's room—which Draco never locks for that purpose—and just sits there, listening to the Gryffindor breathe. It helps him sleep, somewhat.

Except of course when Draco has nightmares and wakes up screaming; that doesn't usually work very well in the sleeping department. One time Dudley had actually managed to fall asleep, and then Draco woke him with his screams. He would put on silencing charms, but Dudley asked him not to in case something bad is actually happening.

After breakfast, Draco and Dudley automatically go down to the basement to play something. Mickey and Rawr show up about an hour later, and they long ago stopped commenting on the bathrobe, and Rawr still sits in the same beanbag as Draco. The thing is, the gay bloke that Dudley's group put into the hospital...well, that was him. Draco made it plenty clear that he's with Harry though, and surprising as it is, Rawr respects that. Sure, he does the regular flirting to try and get Draco to go for him instead, but it doesn't really faze Draco at all. It just reminds him about his plan to find the bloke a boyfriend.

"Hey, Hatchet?" Mickey says from another beanbag as the four boys battle the Flood. (There's a story behind Draco's nickname, of course. They used to call him Pyro for the whole dragon thing, which turned into Pyromaniac because Draco was brilliant with matches and lighters and whatnot, but that was too long so it turned to regular Maniac, and then that word reminded Spencer—another member of the group, also known as Pony Boy because he's obsessed with _The Outsiders_ book and movie—of a madman swinging an ax, and Hatchet has stuck ever since.)

"Yeah, what?" Draco says.

"What do you want for Christmas?"

"Huh? No, don't buy me anything. I won't be able to get you anything back."

"Naw, it's from Dudley, too."

"You mean you already got it?"

"Yeah." (Mickey usually just nodded when his answer was yes, but it's difficult to give any sort of movement to acknowledge people when you're dead set on blowing up mutations.)

Draco sighs. "It's still over a week until Christmas, you know."

"None of us know when you're goin' home, though, so we got it early."

"Alright, whadya get me?"

"Big D?"

Dudley pauses the game, and Mickey picks up a box from behind it that's wrapped in royal purple wrapping paper, and tied around with a bright green bow. Before, Draco would have thought of dinosaurs when seeing the colour combination, but now he thinks of the Joker from Batman.

"Big D and I each paid half of the price," Mickey says, handing him the box with a bright smile. Dudley's smile is less bright, but Draco knows it's the same; Dudley and Mickey are very different people.

"What, Rawr didn't get me anything?" Draco asks jokingly, turning to the other blond. Rawr blushes, and before he can say anything else Draco continues: "Oh, shush, you know I didn't want any presents anyway." As Draco unwraps the box, he wishes that he could just use his wand, but _no_.

He finally gets it unwrapped and the regular coloured cardboard box opened, and when he sees what's inside he's not sure if he's supposed to laugh or be generally happy... So he just gapes down at the contents.

"Do you like them?" Dudley asks, leaning around Rawr.

Draco's gape turns into a giant smile. "You have no idea how much I love you guys," he says, pulling out the thick, fluffy pink slippers. "I'm not even kidding." And he's not, considering the fact that his mother hasn't let him buy any slippers like these in the last three years. He hugs Mickey tightly, and since Big D isn't the hugging type he just messes up the big guy's hair.

"Do I get any thanks?" Rawr asks, leaning in even closer than he already is to Draco.

Draco rolls his eyes heavenward before pressing the palm of his hand to Rawr's face and pushing him away. "No," he says. "Not unless you get me something. And if you do get me something I'll kill you. So if you're fine with being murdered, then yes, you get something."

Rawr frowns in the sort of way one does when they're mostly just kidding. "Well drat. And here I thought I was getting through to you."

Big D pressed Play on the game right about then, though, so Draco chooses not to answer. He hopes that Rawr won't notice, but he knows the bloke pretty well by now to know that he does.

He really needs to fix this.

_**OoOoOoO**_

_Still the same day..._

Harry makes his way up the staircase into Dumbledore's office. He had received a note from the Headmaster, asking him to come and see him, so his "parents" walked him to the gargoyles before they let him walk up alone.

"Ah, Harry," Dumbledore says when Harry walks into the main office. "It's so nice to see you."

Harry only nods in acknowledgement.

"I have a gift for you," Dumbledore says, moving across the room to the Slytherin.

When Harry looks up at him, Dumbledore holds out a stone. It's an oval stone, perfectly rounded on the sides, and flat on the other sides. Harry takes it, turning it over in his hands.

"It's a skipping stone," Dumbledore informs him. "Miss Brown and Mr. Longbottom tell me that you like to skip stones on the lake, and I found it the other day while taking my daily walk. This old body of mine needs exercise, too, you know. I thought of you when I saw it, so I picked it up to give to you now."

Harry manages a smile. "Thank you, professor." He puts it into his pocket, and then turns to leave.

"Ah, ah, not so fast, Harry."

Harry turns back around.

"I have a few words to tell you concerning Mr. Malfoy."

Harry tilts his head in confusion. "Lucius?"

"Heavens no, I am referring to your boyfriend."

Harry jumps slightly. "Oh, of course." He sits down in the closest chair to him. "What is it?"

"On the date of December twenty-forth, meaning Christmas Eve, it will be safe for Draco to come back to Hogwarts. To make sure, though, I am not going to bring him back until the twenty-fifth. It is my plan, at the moment, to send you to the Dursley's with the same members of the Order that brought Draco there on the twenty-fourth so that you may spend the Holidays with him. They will pick you up at six o'clock in the morning, apparate you there just outside of the Hogwarts gate, and then be back on Christmas afternoon to pick you both up. Does that all sound alright with you, or would you rather stay here?"

Harry actually laughs. He can't remember the last time he laughed. Wait, no, he can. It was last Thursday, and he was eating a pizza... Lavender was drinking chocolate milk and it squirted out of her nose for some unknown reason. Of course, Harry's tears of laughter had turned into real tears, but it was laughter nonetheless.

"That's brilliant, professor," Harry says, smiling brightly at him. "I approve of all of it."

Dumbledore smiles back at Harry, his eyes twinkling like stars over his half-moon glasses. "I'm glad you think so highly of my plan, Harry."

Harry leaves, then. He _would_ be skipping with joy, but considering the fact that he still has ten days (including today) until the twenty-fourth, he's not as happy as he wishes.

_**XxX**_

"Filch totally almost caught us," Greg says, using his wand to stir the fire.

"I see," Harry says absentmindedly.

"We ran way too hard. I've never been so out of breath. I'm so glad we don't have a gym class here."

"Cool," Harry says, looking up at the ceiling of the Slytherin common room. _I wonder how many strips of seaweed are growing above me right now..._ he thinks.

"You seem very interested," Greg says darkly, leaving the fire alone to glare at Harry.

"I'm not," Harry says without looking at him.

"Well, thanks for pretending, anyway," Harry's fellow Slytherin mutters sarcastically.

"Yup."

"It is astounding how rude you can be, Harry, even under the circumstances," says a new voice.

Harry whirls around from the fire so fast he always snaps his neck. "George!"

"Hey, Harry," George says, sitting down next to Harry. Harry nearly attacks him with a hug, and George laughs. "Wow, I should visit more often. How've you been?"

Harry pulls away with a frown. "Have you not heard?"

George sighs. "Of course I heard. He sent a letter to Fred, after all."

At that precise moment, Fred walks up behind George. "Hey, Harry," he says. "Come on, we have something to tell you."

The twins lead Harry down to Harry's dorm, and the precise moment that the door is shut, Fred says, "I'm sorry it took so long, but we've been really busy. I preformed the Hidden Tongues on Draco a long time ago, and George says you'll want to know what's been going on with him."

Harry almost faints, but his knees do give out. Thankfully George had his arm around Harry's waist anyway, so he doesn't hit the ground. George walks Harry over to his bed, and Harry chokes out, "Tell me _everything_."

Fred tells Harry that he pulled a prank on the Dursley's the first day, but he wasn't able to see what exactly it was. Draco's rebellious aura was gone in days, though; all Fred could see was that Draco was just going with everything that the Dursley's told him to do. He had nightmares a lot, he read twice as much as he had nightmares, and he slept half as much as he read. About a week in, though, he started sleeping a lot less. He did a lot of muggle things, and he actually hangs out with some people, but Fred can't read their names. (Harry hasn't any clue who they could be, though. There's no chance that they're Dudley's friends, because that means he would have to be friends with Dudley, and there's about as much chance of that happening as there is of Harry deciding to marry one of his shoes.) The only other thing that Fred has been able to see is Draco's feelings: depressed, tired, bored, and fed-up—not fed-up with life, but with an actual person (Harry instantly assumes it's all three of the Dursley's).

He'll find out soon enough who it is, though. Ten days isn't that long...

Harry sighs, hanging his head. Ten days is forever.

"Not with us here," George says, patting Harry on the back.

"What do you mean?" Harry asks, used to George knowing exactly what he's thinking by now.

"Dumbledore said that we could stay here until you leave to go get Draco!"

Harry actually smiles.

_**OoOoOoO**_

_Eight days later..._

As much as Neville hates to admit it, Harry would have gone insane without him around—but he would have _died_ without George around. Fred mostly visits his other siblings, but George never leaves Harry's side. Neville and Lavender are still around, and Harry still calls them dad and mum, but to add onto the joke, Harry started to call George "uncle".

Ginny tried talking to George one time when the Gryffindor and three other Slytherin's were all sitting around the Slytherin common room fire, but Harry nearly ripped her head off. Ginny still didn't approve of the whole Harry/Draco thing, and Harry wouldn't forgive her even if she were. Maybe Draco can forgive his friends, but Harry is different than Draco—that much is obvious.

"George, is he doing alright?" Harry asks for the umpteenth time. Neville has to force himself not to roll his eyes.

"He's just sleeping again, Harry," George says. His arm is around Harry's shoulder and Harry is snuggled so deeply into his side that Neville can't see half of his face. Honestly, you'd think the two still had feelings for each other. "It's only ten in the morning."

"I know, but I'm going to see him tomorrow! This past month has been terrible, George; I can't say it enough."

"Hey, at least you've got Fred and I to let you know that he's okay."

Harry sighs, both happily and sadly, however that works. "I just miss him, okay? You'd miss Fred too if you didn't get to see him for a month. Hell, you'd miss him after a day, so don't go telling me to suck it up and be happy I have less than twenty-four hours until I get to see him again."

George gives a short chuckle and messes up Harry's hair with his free hand. Neville narrows his eyes at the gesture; he's perfectly alright with Harry being with _Draco_, but anybody else is another story.

_**XxX**_

_Two hours later…_

"Hey, Lav?"

"Yeah, Nev?"

"Why do you have all of the lights off, again?"

"So you don't see me changing, idiot."

"Oh, right. I already forgot. Did you ever get a letter back from Blaise?"

"No, don't remind me. I got a letter from him yesterday, though, telling me that he was going to rewrite her to at least tell him if she hates me. Since his letter was so random, I assume he's telling the truth."

"Hmm, yeah. Hey, Lav?"

"I'm still listening, Nev."

"Would it be bad if I was starting to hate George's guts?"

"Yes, Neville, that would be very bad."

Neville frowns in the darkness. "I think I do anyway."

"Nev, darling, I thought you were okay with Harry being—"

"I'm okay with him being with _Draco_. Anybody else is a completely different story."

Neville hears her sigh. "I'm rolling my eyes at you right now, too, if you couldn't see."

"I can't even see the nose at the end of my face, Lavender."

"Oh, can you see yours?"

Neville blinks at the direction her voice is coming from. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Never mind, you're not in the mood for jokes. I honest to Merlin will bet my life that there's nothing going on between them; they've been close like this since Harry's first year, and considering the fact that they knew specifically who the other liked, there wasn't anywhere for them to go. George knew that Harry was too far gone for Drake before he even told him, and George told Harry about his love for Fred back in…third year, I think. They don't have any of those feelings for each other, I _will_ bet my life on it. They're just best friends still. But, if you want me to, I can talk to George about it… Though it's pointless, since he's got the Hidden Tongues on you and can hear everything we're talking about right now."

Neville pinches the bridge of his nose. "Lavender, I don't understand how you always know so much."

"Eh, it's a talent. Come on, it's time for dinner. I want to see how berserk Harry is going right now."

A door opens across the room from Neville, and he gets up to follow Lavender out of her dorm room. He and Lavender had figured out a way for him to get up to the rooms with her; they just had to take steps at the exact same time, so the stairs would _stay_ stairs since there's also a girl walking up them. That way, Neville still can't get up whenever he pleases, but he can at least get up at all.

"I just want to go to sleep," Neville mutters as he walks behind Lavender in her recently put on pyjamas (it's a completely different outfit than the one she wore when she was putting Harry into his costume, though; she has long pants and a t-shirt on now, though Neville wouldn't really care either way).

"You can as soon as dinner's over," Lavender says. And then, in a quieter, darker voice, "Honestly, you'd think I had _two_ kids instead of just _one_."

Neville smiles. The chick has brains, guts, and motivation without purpose. It must be a Gryffindor thing.

* * *

References: 1. _It was last Thursday, and he was eating a pizza..._  
I got this general idea from an episode from a show called Red Dwarf. The real line is something along the lines (get it? Get it? Lines? Okay I'm done) of: Kryten: "_I remember distinctly! Last Thursday, Mr. Lister had a _pizza_."  
_Lister: _"Oh yeah, oh yeah."_  
K: _"And you didn't like it."  
_L: _"No, no I didn't."  
_K: _"But then I sprinkled curry sauce _all_ over it, and he just _yummed_ it up!"_

2. _"I can't even see a nose at the end of my face, Lavender."  
"Oh, can you see yours?"  
_This joke that Lavender made, if you didn't catch it, is funny because Neville said _a_ nose, so Lav asked if he could see his _own_ because you usually call that thing you sniff with on your face _your_ nose, not _a_ nose or _the_ nose. So.


	21. Year 6, Part XI

**Year Six, Part XI: I'm Not Gay, but My Boyfriend Is.**

Beginning chapter A/N's: So you know that accent that Fleur has? She's not in this chapter, but that accent is, and I wrote it _HORRIBLY_. Like, worse that I write Hagrid's (and Hagrid's was/is _bad_). Sorry! So this chapter is dedicated to accents and horrible people are always botching the ones they aren't used to.

* * *

Harry literally does not sleep on the night of the twenty-third. He's too busy getting everything ready for his one night at the Dursley's with Draco, and he even snuck into the Gryffindor common room (thanks to Lavender and him exchanging passwords this last month; not that Lavender wouldn't have figured out a way into the Slytherin common room anyway) to get into the eighth year boys dorm to completely decorate Draco's bed and his part of the wall. Only Seamus woke up out of him, Ron, Dean, and Vincent, and all he did was laugh quietly at Harry before promptly falling back to sleep.

And now its five-fifty-five in the morning, five minutes until the three Order members that took Draco away will be here to take Harry to the same place.

Everything is in order. Harry has his trunk packed, filled with homework and books and potions. He's dressed in something he brought in Hogsmede: lots of black leather, and lots of silver studs. He almost went as far as eyeliner, but considering that Lupin would be showing up he decided that would be a bad idea.

Harry is sitting out on the stairs outside of Hogwarts, wearing a pair of sweats and a huge sweatshirt to cover up his leather, plus a beanie and scarf just because it's so damn cold out.

And finally they're there, landing beside him with their brooms.

"We had a feeling you'd be waiting for us," Lupin says with a smile.

"And we're not even going to ask if you have all your stuff," Tonks says in the same sad tone she's had since Sirius died. Her hair is still the same sandy blond as Lupin's, but Harry swears that her eyebrows are a different colour—and that's a good thing, right?

The three Order members flick their wands so that all of Harry's things attach to their trunks.

"Well I can take something," Harry says, picking up his broom at his feet.

"But you won't," Moody says scratchily. "Dumbledore tells us you been mopin' around like anyone in your situation would, and this way you can stretch your lungs with a bit more freedom."

Harry gives a small smile. "Thanks, guys." Then he turns to Lupin, remembering something that he found out back at Draco's beach house. "Hey, Lupin, wanna know something?"

"You know I would, Harry."

"When I was over at Draco's for Halloween—I mean, you knew about that, right?"

"Most everybody did, yes."

"Well, when I was over, I met two of his little cousins. There was a girl named Felicia, but the boy…you'll never guess what _his_ name was."

Lupin shrugs. "I don't know, James?"

Harry purses his lips. "No, but you're close, I guess. I'll just tell you though, because I don't think I want to hear any more of your guesses. His name was Remus."

Lupin's jaw drops. "Upon my word, Harry. I never thought that I would ever even hear about another Remus living out there." He reaches forward to muss up Harry's hair, but stops. "Well, you are a bit too old for that, I suppose."

Harry nods, a small grin on his face. "Can we go now?"

The three Order members chuckle, even Tonks.

"'Course we can," Moody says. "We'll apparate there as soon as we get out of the gate. That way I can get out of this blasted"—he remounts his broom with a grunt—"freezing cold weather."

The four of them kick off into the air, and before flying off of the grounds, Harry flies higher up and circles the Astronomy tower.

"Let's hurry," he says to Tonks when he comes back down. "You and I can fly together, like we did in fifth year, when you came and brought me to Sirius' house. Can we, Tonks? Please?"

Tonks smiles sadly. "If you were any older, Harry, I'd kiss you." She spins towards the Hogwarts gate, where they'll be able to apparate. Harry will apparate with Lupin, because Tonks will probably kill him and Moody will probably drop him off on some remote island that he'll never get off of.

"I'll race you to the gate!" Tonks calls, taking off above the trees.

Harry just laughs at her. She thinks she'll beat him? On _that_ broom? He waits until she's halfway there before taking off after her.

_**OoOoOoO**_

Neville leans against the side of the stairs. He had gone unnoticed by Harry, Lupin, and whoever the girl was, but Mad-Eye Moody made sure that Neville knew he knew he was there but was going to ignore him.

He watches Harry race the girl—Tonks, he called her, and that rings a very loud bell in Neville's mind—leaving her in the dust of the air as he passes her at lightning speed.

He can't hear them anymore, of course, but he can see Harry circling the girl in triumph.

It's an odd thing, seeing Harry happy. He's been so down since Draco had to leave that Neville was sure he'd never see him smile again.

Millicent told him not to see Harry off this morning, and he said he wouldn't, but he lied. He really is okay with Draco being with Harry, now, probably because of Lavender's influence. He just wants Harry to be happy, and he truly believes that Draco is the one that will do that.

If not, though, Neville'll wring his pale little neck, and he'll—

"I knew you'd be there," a voice says above him.

Neville looks up to see Lavender leaning over the thick stone railing of the stairs, smiling down at him.

"Oh, hi Lavender," he says, looking back at the school gates. The four broom riders are all gone, now, already finished apparating.

Lavender flips over the railing and lands beside him, her hair up in curlers and wearing a fluffy bathrobe the colour of sand. Not exactly a colour he would picture her in.

"It's cold out, Nev. Come inside with me, won't you?"

Neville sighs. "Yeah, alright. My pyjamas pants _are_ pretty thin…"

He follows the Gryffindor up the stairs and into the Hogwarts castle, automatically following her as she walks in the direction of her own common room.

He doesn't realize he is, though, until she gives the password to the Fat Lady (wooly bladders?)

"Ugh, I hate being in here," Neville says, following her in. "It's so bright."

"It's empty, though," Lavender says as the portrait shuts behind them. "Everyone's either asleep or off for Christmas vacation."

"Who all stayed behind?" Neville asks as they sit in two chairs in front of the fireplace.

"Let's see here… Ginny's still our enemy, but she went home. Ron took Hermione and her parents to his house to drop the news to his parents about their being together. Blaise went to Silvi's house, Vince went to Greg's, Seamus went to Dean's house, Pansy went to Parvati's place, aaaand…that's all! I mean, excluding the obvious Draco/Harry situation. So you, me, and Millicent are the only ones left aside from a few straggling younger years. I haven't kept track of the Ravenclaw's or Hufflepuff's, though."

Neville snorts. "Don't any of us want to go to our _own_ homes?" (He had long ago begun to refer to the entirety of the sixth years from Slytherin and Gryffindor as _us_.) "So much for family life."

Lavender sighs. "Some of us have Death Eater's for parents, actually, so going home would generally be a bad idea."

Neville purses his lips. "Right. How could I forget? It's the reason Harry and Draco are away for the holidays, of course."

"You're okay with that, then?"

"Pardon?"

"You didn't say it with any malice. You seemed okay with him being with Draco. Are you?"

Neville nods. "It stinks, but I got over it sometime this month. I don't know when."

Lavender smiles. "Whatever for?"

Neville shrugs. "I have no idea. I was just watching him fly away and I realized that I was okay with it. Strange, huh?"

"Yes," she says, tapping her chin. "Very strange." She leaps up and runs to the stairs that lead to the girl's dormitories. "See you at breakfast!" And then she disappears up the stairs.

Neville isn't at all perturbed by her sudden leave; he's used to her not telling people anything that she's thinking. So he gets up and leaves the Gryffindor common room, heading back to his own dorm so that he can try and sleep for just a little bit longer.

_**OoOoOoO**_

The three Order members left all of Harry's things in the middle of the living room, and after Lupin and Tonks gave Harry a hug, they left him to his summer place of living.

Harry spends exactly three seconds thinking about how much he hates it here, and then strips off his sweatshirt and sweats before using his wand to make his things follow him silently and speedily up the stairs.

Catching his breath in front of his bedroom for a moment, he pushes the door open just a crack.

Instead of the bedroom he's had since being eleven, he's greeted with a room three times its regular size, decorated in brilliant Slytherin and Gryffindor colours. There's even a tiny kitchen and a large cushioned chair in front of the flaming fireplace; there's a chair just the same by the door, too, but Harry hasn't a clue why Draco would pick that over the fireplace. His old bed is now a four-poster bed, and Harry can see two sides of the canopy from where he stands; one side has the Slytherin snake twined around the Gryffindor lion (Harry grins at seeing this), and the other is pulled open to reveal the lump underneath the blankets that is Draco, with only the top of his silvery-platinum blond hair showing.

Harry barely holds back a squeal of delight at the sight of his Gryffindor's hair. He sets down his luggage, puts a locking and silencing charm on the door, and then kicks his shoes off before forcing himself to go slowly across the room so he doesn't wake his blond. Once to the bed he crawls as lightly onto the bed as he can, closes the canopy, and then turns around to crawl onto his silver-eyed boy.

"Draco," Harry whispers, crawling over him so that both his arms and legs straddle him. "Drake." He pulls the blanket down to reveal the peaceful look of Draco's sleeping face. Has he ever seen it before? He doesn't think so. There was that one time in the Great Hall, but that doesn't count.

But he can think about that later.

"Drake," he says again, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the boy.

Draco stirs, so Harry kisses him again and again until his eyes open. It's still dark in the room thanks to it being only six-thirty in the morning in the middle of December, not to mention that Draco has shades in front of the window, and now the canopy is closed.

"If this is Rawr," Draco growls, "your house and your entire family will be burnt to a crisp in approximately four seconds."

Harry doesn't have a clue who _Rawr_ is, but he doesn't care either. "No," he says. "It's way better than Luke."

"Harry!" Draco all but yells, and hands slam onto the sides of Harry's head and pull it down to mash Harry's lips against the Gryffindor's before Harry can say anything else.

But there's no time for words, anyway. It's been exactly one month since Harry and Draco have seen each other, and he's not going to ruin it by telling him how horrible he's felt without him.

_**OoOoOoO**_

"You're here," Draco says dreamily, kissing lovingly all over Harry's head, his hands tight on the Slytherin's shoulders so he doesn't go anywhere. "You're really here."

"Of course I'm here," Harry says around the kisses, smiling warmly, looking absolutely content in the sitting position beneath Draco (they had flipped over while kissing, and now Draco is straddling Harry's lap). "Did they not tell you I was coming today? Honestly, as if I would leave you here even one extra, wretched day."

"You mean they as in the Dursley's?"

"Yeah."

"They didn't think you'd be coming specifically. They just thought the guys that brought me here would show up eventually. They'll have a heart attack when they see you."

Harry grins. "It'll be even worse when they learn I'll be staying the night here for one extra wretched night. It's for safety, but there wasn't a chance in hell I was going to leave you alone. Oh, and did you see what I was _wearing_?"

Draco stops kissing Harry for a moment. "No, I was too busy getting you out of them. What, are you dressed as some gay little sailor boy? Or maybe a cheerleader?"

Harry rolls his eyes in the dim light. "Let me up and I'll show you."

Draco purses his lips and kisses him instead. "Can I refuse?"

"You can take it all right back off, if you'd like."

"Oh, alright," Draco says, rolling off of Harry. "Hurry, though."

"It's my plan," Harry says, crawling off of the bed through the small opening in the canopy that the clothes had made when they were thrown away. He closes the canopy completely behind him, and Draco lays waiting on the bed as he listens to the sound of Harry dressing. It sounds…odd…though.

"Ready?" Harry asks on the other side of the canopy.

"Considering that all I'm doing is waiting for you," Draco says, "yes."

The canopy is pulled back, and Draco is sitting up in a millisecond, looking Harry over. The Slytherin actually looks somewhat like a girl, but his hair and build make it obvious that he's not, so Draco is still extremely attracted.

He's wearing black leather pants tight to his legs and bunches at the ankles, and there are zippers on the outer side from his knees to the bottom. His top is a long sleeve in the same coloured black as his pants, but reflective in the light now shining through the thin drapes in front of the window in a pattern somewhat like snakeskin. And to top it all off, black eyeliner around both of his eyes. He wasn't wearing that a minute ago, was he? No, he must have just put it on.

"Oh, wow," Draco says, tearing his eyes away from Harry's pants (because _wow_, they're tight). "I think you should just stay dressed. Can you…can you even move in that?"

Harry steps onto the bed so that he towers above Draco, showing that he can in fact bend his knees quite easily.

"Oh good," Draco says, licking his lips.

"I can tell I'm going to have fun with this," Harry says with a seductive grin.

Draco can only nod as Harry comes down on top of him.

_**OoOoOoO**_

Both boys leave the room around noon for lunch, both sedated in every way possible (considering that they also slept for two hours; Harry told Draco that he hadn't even tried to sleep, and Draco said he was up till three in the morning already) except for the fact that they're absolutely starving. Sex does that to a person—especially two male persons. Harry's re-dressed in his leather outfit (because it did in fact come off again, sometime before they slept, and Draco is in a light pink bathrobe with matching slippers. Both boys are magically cleaned, though Draco's hair still smells like watermelons.

Before they walk into the kitchen, Draco turns around and whispers to Harry, "I'm going to tell them that you're here to we don't break any dishes, alright?"

Harry sighs. "Yeah, hurry up, I smell…bacon? For lunch?"

"Um, just go with it." Draco walks into the kitchen (Harry isn't sure how normal his being in a bathrobe is, but he didn't ask), leaving Harry behind a corner to just piece things together with his ears.

"Morning, Draco," Vernon's muffled voice says. He's probably buried behind his newspaper, and still here and not at work because he has the Holidays off. But…did he call Draco by his first name?

"Oh, Draco, darling, did you sleep well?" Petunia's voice asks, and Harry has to cover his face to keep from snorting.

"Morning, guys," Draco says, sounding like their cheery attitude is completely _normal_. There's no way that it is, though. It can't be. "I slept well enough. Where's Dudley?"

"Oh, he's down in the basement with Mark, Luke, and London!"

"London?" Draco asks. "Who's that?"

"Oh, a friend Mark met at school. Anyway, Draco, Duddy-kins was a bit concerned today when he found that you had locked your door! Are you doing alright?"

Draco sighs. "Actually, Petunia, I didn't lock my door. I had a…guest over last night.

There's a short silence before Vernon says, "But Dudley said—we thought you were—I mean—"

"You thought I was with Harry? You're right. That's who's here."

An intense crumpling of newspaper and a sharp gasp from Petunia follows Draco's statement.

"Here?" she asks, sounding almost frightened. "In the house? Right now? Where?"

"You can come out now, 'Ry," Draco says.

Taking a deep breath, Harry walks into the kitchen. Both Vernon and Petunia gape at him, looking over him and his clothes.

"Hello, _boy_," Vernon says darkly. "Back to ruin us?"

Before Harry can reply, Draco does: "You know, Vernon, it might be a good idea to be nice to your nephew, considering that he and his boyfriend can use magic as they please."

Vernon's face turns a purple-y colour, and Petunia whimpers sadly as Harry and Draco sit down to eat. They finish quickly, filling their bellies, and then disperse from the kitchen so Vernon and Petunia can talk in their own definition of peace.

"Come on," Draco says, taking Harry's hand. "Let's go meet the gang."

"The gang?" Harry asks.

Draco nods. "Mark, Luke, Spencer, Cory, and Dudley. Spencer and Cory aren't over right now, though, and they hardly ever are, but the other three are down in the basement along with some other person I've never met. I want to say it's a girl, but I've stopped putting gender-stereotypes on names, so I'll find out soon enough."

Harry almost trips over the carpet. "You mean you're friends with Dudley and his gang?"

"Oh yes, they're really quite harmless once you get to know them."

Harry is appalled. There is no chance that he's going to marry any of his shoes.

_**OoOoOoO**_

Draco goes into the basement first so Dudley doesn't jump Harry, and nearly the second that he steps downstairs he himself is jumped by Rawr.

"Hatchet, you're alive!" he says from his spot on Draco's stomach.

"Rawr," Draco says sternly, "if you don't get off of me I'm going to break your nose."

Rawr blushes as he rolls off of Draco, and after Draco flips into a standing position he helps the other blond up as well.

"Hatchet, are you alright?" Dudley asks. "I went to check on you at seven, but the door was locked. Were you actually afraid that Brandon was going to come after you?"

Draco rolls his eyes. The last couple of days, Draco had been threatened by the leader of another gang named Brandon (called the Big Bee, hence why his gang and Dudley's didn't like each other—not to mention that it was Cory's original group before they started picking on him). Of course, Brandon and his blokes were just a big pile of words, while Dudley's actually beat people up.

"Dudley," Draco says, "if I was actually scared of Brandon, I'd hightail it out to a mental hospital. Now would you like to hear why my door was locked or…or…"

He stops talking when his eyes catch sight of the second most beautiful person on the entire planet (second after Harry, of course). His hair is the same light pink as Draco's bathrobe and slippers, as short as Draco's but spiked up slightly. His left earlobe has an earring that consists of two inches of chain, and then a white feather with brown speckles. His right earlobe has a diamond stud in it, as does his left nostril—and Draco knows enough about diamonds to see that they're both very real. He has a silver ring on the left side of his bottom lip. His eyes are purple—legitimately purple. He's wearing a layer of black eyeliner around his eyes (like Harry so he could scare Vernon and Petunia), and his lips are dark pink and full, shining with…lip-gloss? Maybe Chap Stick. Draco doesn't care either way. His skin is tan, but in such a way that it doesn't look like he ever sees the sun; it's not a fake tan, so Draco doesn't have a clue how it works, but it does. And Draco's never seen such a clear muggle face before; there's always at least one or three blemishes on the chin, but he doesn't have a single one.

And then his clothes are kind of…opposite. His tight t-shirt is white, with a My Little Pony named Minty on the front (Draco is ashamed to realize that he knows that after being here…), and a pin near his right shoulder that has "I'm not gay, but my boyfriend is." written in rainbow colours across it. He's wearing light gray sweats that are so baggy it gives absolutely zero form to his legs (though those arms…wow), and to top the outfit all off he's wearing Santa Clause fuzzy socks.

He's looking at Draco with a mysterious look, but also completely innocent—kind of bored, actually. But he's beautiful and…good gods, it's a good thing Draco has a boyfriend, or the rest of the room would have a heart attack at the way Draco would launch himself at Mickey's new friend.

Draco shuts his apparently gaping mouth as fast as possible, and then coughs so he doesn't sound like a frog when he next talks. "Dudley!" he says, tearing his eyes away from the other boys. "Door my! I mean—no—my door! My door was locked because somebody else locked it!"

Dudley cocks an eyebrow. "What do you mean somebody else locked it? Did you have somebody over last night? I thought you were dating Harry."

Draco forces himself not to look at the pink haired boy at the mention of his boyfriend, and he instead sighs as he pushes his fingers through his hair. "I really need to see if my Glimmer Bag colour has changed yet," he mutters darkly.

"What did you say?" Rawr asks loudly, his eyes wide.

"So, Dudley," Draco says, ignoring the other blond, "the reason that my door was locked is because my boyfriend is here."

Dudley and Rawr go slightly pale, and Mickey groans.

"Oh, shut up," Draco says, rolling his eyes again. "You've never even let yourself get to know him! He's wonderful, and if you guys like me because I'm different than you, you should like him because he's the same. Just say hi to him. Please?"

The three boys who have met Harry look at each other awkwardly, and look like they're about to refuse.

"Fine then," Draco says, now just kind of angry. "Don't meet him. But I'm staying with him this entire time, so you can say your goodbyes _now_."

Before they can though, Draco turns around and storms out of the basement, slamming the door behind him.

"Harry?" he says, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. When he gets no reply, he looks up to see that the stairs that Harry had been waiting on are empty. "Dammit," he all but growls, sitting sideways on one of the steps so that his back is leaning against one wall and the soles of his slippers are pressed against the opposite (hell, he's in his bathrobe and slippers? In front of the newcomer? What a great first impression). Petunia would flip if she saw his potential shoe marks on the wall.

_Tossers_, he thinks, leaning his elbow against the stair above him and then leaning his head against his hand. _You're not supposed to automatically hate people. I didn't like them because I heard what they did to Harry! Dudley, Vernon, and Petunia hate him because of something he can't control, and Dudley's friends hate him because of Dudley's lies! Haven't I changed their minds yet? I guess no—_

The door opens below him, and Draco snaps his head over angrily. "Go_ away_, Rawr!" he growls.

"Ac'shully," says a voice Draco's never heard before, "Zey call me Paris 'ere." The voice is like an angel's, and it makes Draco's blood run cold, and his skin starts to burn. A single word runs through his head: _Veela_. He's not a full one, though, is he? It would explain the eyes, but it will also keep Draco from making the boy angry unless he wants a sharp beak to the face. But maybe he's a muggle… Can muggles have Veela blood? Draco's remembers reading somewhere that yes, yes they can.

He braces himself as the door opens completely to reveal the pink haired boy. He shuts the door instantly, and almost seems to float up to sit on a step in the same position as Draco, but opposite so he can look up at the Gryffindor.

"You must be London," Draco forces himself to say normally.

"I do prefer 'dat more 'dan Paris, yes," he says, examining his nails. Draco hadn't noticed before, but they're painted to match his hair, and filed down to points. Draco's seen Veela before, and they're claws are real, while his are very obviously filed. So he _isn't_ a full Veela… "You are obviously Hatchet. Or do you like Draco better?"

"I, uh, don't really care."

He nods. "So you 'ave been 'ere a month, then? In this house, I mean. Luke 'as been talking about you ever since I met him; he has told me all about you. I even know your favorite colour."

Draco hears the malice in London's voice. "Are you gay?" he asks, lifting his head up from his hand. Then he sees the pin again. "I mean, of course you're gay. Are you jealous? Do you want him for yourself?"

London looks away from Draco with a shrug. "I do not know 'im at all. Besides, I am no competition against you." Draco manages not to blush at the compliment. "He v'ants you more 'dan anyt'ing. You 'ave noticed, of course. He vill not v'ant me because he knows you so much better."

Draco's smile reflects off the walls. "No, I'm leaving tomorrow. You can have him. _Please_ take him. I've felt terrible the entire past month because I'm happily in a relationship. It was my plan to get Harry to help me find him a boyfriend. Take him and I will love you forever."

He grins. "Funny, I thought I v'as going to 'ave to wrestle you for 'im."

Draco blinks at him. "Are you suggesting that I'm the cheating type?"

"Oh no, no, let us not jump to conclusions here. I do not know you; I do not know your morals."

"Right, well, I'm not, so you can get that idea out of your head right now."

London's eyes roll towards the top of the stairs and then back to Draco, and he smirks. "'Ow can I be sure?"

Draco frowns. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, 'ow do I know you are not the cheating type? 'Ow does anybody? 'Ow do you know you vill not _become_ the cheating type?"

"For your infor_mation_," Draco all but growls, "I've been trying to get Harry since I _saw_ him. I've been through more with him that I have with anyone else in my life—except maybe my mother, but that's different. I love him, and anybody who thinks otherwise _insults_ me, so _there_."

London just smirks again. "I'll take that as a no you're not, then. If you were, though, would _this_ faze you?"

Before Draco even knows what's happening, London is tangling his fingers in Draco's hair and pressing his lips tightly to his.

It feels good. Yeah, it feels _great_, and Draco just wants to stay here forever. But he can't, because he really does love Harry, and kissing anybody but his green-eyed, dark haired, beautiful Slytherin just feels _wrong_.

"London, get off me!" Draco tries to yell as he pushes London away (though it more comes out like "Lndngtofm" than anything else).

"That's enough, Bravery," says a voice at the top of the stairs.

London (Bravery? What?) clambers away from Draco instantly, a bright glint in his eyes. He swivels his head towards the voice at the same time that he says, "H'arry!"

Harry descends the steps in silence.

"Harry," Draco says as he and London get into standing positions, "it wasn't me, I swear. I'm so sorry, he just—"

"Drake, you're going to hurt yourself," Harry says as he steps down beside Draco. And then, to Draco's surprise, he kisses him passionately, just as London had done.

"But aren't you mad at me?" Draco asks when Harry pulls away.

"No, I'm mad at Bravery," he mutters, turning to face the other boy. "Honestly, you did _not_ need to go that far."

London shrugs. "I did not v'ant to grab at his parts, and kissing his neck is not near as fun."

"Pardon?" Draco says, absolutely confused. "That was _supposed_ to happen? What?"

"None of it was _supposed_ to happen," London says, "But the opportunity v'as just so perfect. I had to make sure the most famous v'izard of all time was being treated well, you see."

Draco blinks at Harry. He blinks at London. He blinks at Harry. Repeat, repeat, repeat.

"I do so think your boyfriend is confused, H'arry," London says with a laugh.

"What, you didn't tell him?" Harry asks.

"No, it did not come up. Besides, it is much funnier this way."

Harry gives London a reproving look, but the pink-haired boy is unfazed.

"Are you two quite done laughing at my being confused, yet?" Draco asks.

"Oh, alright," Harry says, wrapping his arms around Draco's neck. "London, meet my faithful boyfriend, Draco Lucius Malfoy. Drake, this is Bravery London Lockhart the 2nd, Squib son of Gilderoy Lockhart's older half-brother, and second cousin to the fourth place contestant of the most recent Triwizard Tournament, Fleur Delacour."

_**OoOoOoO**_

Draco's jaw drops, and his eyes glaze over slightly as he stares up at the younger boy.

"What do you say to_ that_, little Dray?" Harry asks with a grin.

Draco's arm swings up and he punches Harry in the shoulder.

"Ow," Harry says at the same time Draco says, "I told you not to call me that, dammit!"

"I can't help it, though!" Harry protests. "It's so cute!"

"I don't care! You know why I hate it!"

"I don't understand _why_, though! Just because your cousins call you it doesn't mean you should hate it!"

Draco frowns. "That's not the main reason. I guess I never told you."

"No, I guess not," Harry snaps, annoyed that he just got chewed out for no reason.

Draco looks down at his hands, and Harry sighs. "Why do you hate it, then?"

"My Aunt Bellatrix is notorious for her laziness with saying names," Draco begins, looking back up. "That's where I got the habit of giving people nicknames. I've tried to break it, but I can't. She was the first one to call me Dray, and it's sickened me every since. I put up with it, but I hate it."

Harry has to use the banister to keep himself from leaping up. "Draco, I'm so sorry, I had no idea."

Draco shrugs. "It's alright, you didn't know. Just…don't do it anymore."

"Never again," Harry says, taking Draco's hands as the blond looks down at them again. "I promise."

They smile a moment at each other, and just as Draco opens his mouth to speak, Bravery (his _middle name_ is London, and he likes that more than Bravery, but Harry's called him by his first name too long now to change it) beats him to it: "Are you not confused anymore, Draco?"

Draco sighs. "I can't remember the last time I was so confused. Does it mean that the Lockhart's and Delacour's are _related_?"

Bravery nods. "Fleur is the daughter of my father's second cousins sister."

Draco blinks at him. "How does that make her _your_ second cousin, then?"

Bravery shrugs. "No idea. Tha'tis just v'hat everybody says."

"How are you part-Veela, then? And how much are you?"

"Three-fourths, v'hich means I cannot do the creepy bird part. That is saying a lot for you, though, you know. Hardly anybody can resist even a half-Veela, so I v'as kind of surprised that you could actually push me away. Though you did nearly trip over your non-moving feet when you first saw me." He turns to Harry and winks (Harry doesn't care about this statement, though; he did the same thing meeting him). "Anyv'ay, Fleur and I have a common ancestor that was full-Veela, named Lidia something or another, who v'as the reason that her mudder and my fadder were born. I'tis kind of confusing, but it v'orks the same v'ay as wizard genes. Lidia's children w'eren't Veela, nor v'ere their children, and it v'ent down the line until part of the genes came back. I'tis like muggles having a v'izard child because the v'izard blood finally became strong enou'f again to become dominant. Now if I 'ave a child v'ith someone who's at least one-fourth Veela, my child will most likely be a _full_ Veela. Which v'ould be gross, by the way, because I am not planning on 'aving children, considering I do not like v'omen."

"Good gods, isn't anybody straight anymore?" Draco mutters, pulling his hands away from Harry's to push them through his hair. "We've got Fred, George, Neville, Seamus, Dumbledore, Rawr, and all three of us! That's nine, not including anybody else at school we don't know about! Next thing you know, Dudley will be confessing his undying love for Mickey!"

He mutters unintelligibly to himself a few more seconds, and Harry and Bravery just shrug at each other.

"Okay, I'm done," Draco eventually says, giving his hands back to Harry. "How old are you, London?"

"Seventeen next Tuesday," he replies, putting his hands on his hips and smiling proudly.

"Ooh, you'll be of age, then!"

Bravery frowns. "Sort of. I do not usually live v'ith any v'izards. My fadder is alv'ays at his job in Hogsmede, my mudder works at Gringotts, and my nineteen-year-old sister who still lives with us 'as a full time janitorial job at the Ministry. Since they are never home, I always use Floo powder to head out and explore the world. A few days ago I stumbled upon a free school, and after enrolling for the heck of it I became friends with Mickey. That's v'hy I am here right now. My family probably is not even looking for me."

Draco frowns. Harry already knows about Bravery's story, though; he's known him since Fleur made him visit in the summer of fourth year. Harry would have kissed him if not for the fact that George had been with him, too. Fleur invited him as well because he had been the thing that Harry rescued from the Black Lake. Fleur invited all of the Triwizard Contestants and what they rescued in honor of Cedric (it was awkward around Chang, but Harry managed it well enough).

"That's terrible," Draco says. "Hey, I bet you could find a way to stay at Hogwarts!"

"Thank you, but no thank you," Bravery says. "I do not like being around v'izards much anyv'ay. Considering that my family is ashamed of my not being one, I v'ould rather be with muggle, you know?"

"Naw, it'd be fun. Our caretaker's a Squib and hardly anybody knows it, so you could keep it hidden, too. You couldn't be a student, but you could be a professor assistant! Are you any good at divination? Our professor sucks."

Harry laughs. "Yeah, she really does," he says in agreement. "You'd make it so much more fun."

Bravery blushes a bit. "I do not know, I like how I am living right now. I vill think about it for later, though."

"Promise?" Draco asks.

Bravery snorts and rolls his eyes. "Yes, Hatchet, I promise."

Draco smiles. "Hey, do you dye your hair?"

"_Excuse_ me?" Bravery actually looks offended. "I v'ould _never_. This is one-hundred-percent _oh-natu-ral_."

Even Harry's eyes widen. "Really?"

"Harry," Bravery says, rolling his eyes heavenward, "for surviving You-Know-Who, you are quite the idiot."

"Finally, somebody who agrees with me," Draco says with a grin.

"Oh, shut up, you believed him too," Harry says, pushing Draco away from him.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. What about your eyes, Paris?"

"Oh, yes, those really are real. It is actually an extremely rare mutation that, if I v'asn't part-Veela, would kill me earlier than a natural death. Lovely, isn't it?" He smiles stupidly, and then spins around, yanks open the basement door, and walks inside, leaving it open.

"Hey, Harry?" Draco asks as the two boys look in at the three faces that are not Bravery.

"Yeah?" Harry asks.

"Where'd you go?"

"My uncle wanted me. He says we have to be outta here by midnight tonight."

"Ah." He takes a deep breath. "Ready?"

"No."

Taking each other's hands, they follow Bravery into the room.

_**OoOoOoO**_

"Dudley," Draco says as he closes the door behind him and Harry. "This is your cousin, Harry Potter."

Dudley doesn't answer, and Harry's lips twitch.

"Harry, that's Dudley Dursley, also known as Big D. And this," he says, motioning to Mickey, "is Mark, but we call him Mickey."

Mickey nods in greeting, and Harry gives an awkward half smile.

"You already know London, but that blond there is Luke, known here as Rawr, like the lion says."

Draco sees Rawr take a very visible deep breath, and the next thing Draco knows, Rawr is standing in front of Harry with his hand held out. "It's nice to meet you, Bolt," he says. (Wow, even a nickname? Draco is beyond impressed. If it wasn't for the fact that he's only doing this because he likes Draco he'd feel even better about it.) "You can call me Rawr like everybody else does."

Harry is reluctant, but after Draco elbows him he takes Rawr's hand and shakes it.

As Rawr turns away, Draco mouths, "Thank you," to him, and Rawr nods discretely back.

"Anyone up for a game of Super Mario Bros. V'ii?" London asks, holding up a Wii remote.

"You can only play with four people," Mickey says quietly.

"I won't play," Harry says. "Nobody wants me to, and I don't know how to anyway."

"I won't either," Rawr says. "I always lose all of my lives in the first ten minutes."

The six boys situate themselves into the five beanbags: three of them go to London, Dudley, and Mickey, and Draco and Harry sit in another. Rawr stands there awkwardly, looking at the empty seat.

"Rawr," Day says, motion for him.

Rawr gets down next to Draco. "What?"

Draco leans in next to his ear and whispers as quietly as possible, "Sit with Paris."

Rawr pulls away with his lips pursed. He turns Draco's head and leans into his ear, and even quieter than Draco had spoken, says, "But you're leaving tomorrow."

Even in the whisper, Draco hears the pain in his voice. He turns away and looks at Harry, a pleading look on his face.

Harry blinks at him. "You haven't seen me for a month, and you want to sit by _him_?"

"I'm never going to see him again," Draco breathes so that only Harry can hear.

Harry gets up and sits in the beanbag beside Draco without any more questions. Rawr sits down on the opposite side of Draco so the boyfriends can still sit by each other, and the game begins.

"I don't care what Vernon says," Draco mutters to Harry as he plays as the blue mushroom. "We're staying until tomorrow."

"Fine," Harry says darkly. "But he's not sleeping with us."

London snorts beside them.

_**XxX**_

"I don't think I can take a whole n'other day with a civilized Dudley," Harry mutters darkly as he crawls onto the bed. It's two in the morning, and Draco and Harry have put the necessary charms on the door—very necessary tonight, considering that all the boys who were downstairs are still down there to stay over. (Draco told London specifically to make his move on Rawr tonight, without Draco around, or he wouldn't ever get a chance.) Family life isn't much of a necessity to sixteen and seventeen year olds—especially to ones such as these, who live in a pleasing-to-the-eye neighborhood, but a please-help-me-get-away-from-here home.

"Oh, it's not that bad," Draco says, digging through his trunk for his Glimmer Bag. He brought it with him, but he hasn't brought it out because it hurt too much to think about Harry needing to see if his colour has changed as well. "I told you they weren't so bad once you got to know them."

The instant that he touches the material, all of the lilac slowly melts away to a light pink colour.

"Ooh, Harry, look," he says, pulling the Bag out. "I've changed."

Harry smiles. "Pink? Considering that you've become friends with all of the people I never could, that suits you. Let me see if I've changed."

Draco tosses him the bag, and the instant that it touches his hands, all of the turquoise melts away to evergreen green.

Draco frowns.

"Well at least we know _one_ of us has stayed yellow while being away from each other," Harry grumbles, tosses the Bag back to Draco.

"Harry, you don't know what I've been doing while here. For all you know I could have been pretending."

"Yeah, well, you'd have changed to cream-sickle orange, then, wouldn't you have? So whatever." He crosses his arms as Draco sadly places the Bag back into the trunk, closing it tight so they don't have to see it. "I don't care _if_ they're cool once you know them. Considering that I haven't gotten to know them yet, they still suck."

Draco crawls into the bed beside Harry, who's still just sitting on top of all the bedding. Once he's underneath, he lifts the blankets up for Harry.

Harry crawls underneath the blankets and straight into Draco's arms, apparently not caring that Draco "had more fun than him" while being here (the bad part is, Draco probably did get along better here than Harry did at school...). Draco knows that means that he's not feeling very well emotionally, but Draco'll fix that right up.

"Don't worry," Draco says, kissing the top of Harry's head. "I'll make sure we're gone by noon tomorrow, and then you'll only have to come back here once more when school is out. Maybe I could even come with you!"

Harry sighs. "I don't want you to come back."

Draco frowns, knowing exactly why his Slytherin doesn't want Draco to accompany him. "I don't like him like, that, 'Ry," he says, stroking his fingers through Harry's hair. "You heard me talking to London about it. You're the only one I've ever loved, and it's going to stay that way."

Harry buries his face in Draco's neck. "I don't care if you like him back; he likes you way too much."

"And you don't think Neville gets on _my_ nerves?"

Harry stiffens, and then relaxes twice as much as before. "Okay, you've got me there. I just…I'm jealous, okay? Sure, Neville's my best friend after George, but at least I don't indulge him."

"I don't _indulge_ him, Harry. He flirts with me and I tell him to back off. I promise you that I've made it plenty clear to him that I love you and no one else—that doesn't mean that he'll stop trying, though. But I happen to have a plan to solve the whole little problem. Would you like to hear it?"

Harry pulls away so that he can look up at Draco in the dim light through the bed curtains (Draco annoyingly realizes that they left the bedroom light on; he'll have to fix that eventually). "Plan?"

"Plan," Draco repeats.

"Why yes, I would like to hear this plan. Do tell."

Draco grins and pulls Harry back to his chest. "You know that London is gay, right?"

"Draco, your _owl_ would know that London's gay. Please continue."

"Alright, when did you show up at the top of the stairs?"

"Pretty much exactly when you started talking about morals and cheating."

"Okay, well, before you started eavesdropping on my feelings for you, I figured out—well, okay, London basically told me to my face—that he's got a little thing for our boy Luke."

"That's Rawr, right?"

"Correct."

"_Does_ he, now? I don't think I would have guessed that. Is that what you whispered to Rawr about?"

"Not really. I told him to go sit with London, but then he said something about my leaving tomorrow and I couldn't help it. That's when I looked over at you and asked you to move. Either way, I told London to really hit on the bloke tonight. If it works, we've got four happy soldiers."

"And if it doesn't…?"

"Then two of us have been killed in the war, and the other two get away with scars on our bellies."

Harry doesn't answer for a couple of seconds. "Um, which of us get the scars?"

"We do."

"How do you figure that one?"

"Well, if Rawr says no, then he walks away heartbroken because he'll never see me again, and London's dead because he's rejected—and what's worse, he knows that, even though he's Veela, he was rejected because of a stupid pureblood Gryffindor. We've only got scars because I care about both of their feelings, and you don't give a damn about anything but _my_ feelings."

"Hmm… We'll find out tomorrow if we live or die, then?"

"No, we find out if Rawr and London live or die."

"We could die too, you know. I mean, London would kill you before he dies, and then I would kill myself because there's no way I'm living in a world without you. I think we should do something about that."

Draco grins. "It's my turn tonight."

Harry looks up at him with a frown. "I thought you liked it better when I topped."

"Just because I like water doesn't mean I don't want to drink firewhiskey every once in a while."

"Are you comparing my fucking you to water?"

Draco rolls his eyes and pulls Harry back to him. "It's a metaphor, sweetheart. Don't hurt yourself. Are you going to let me fuck you or not? I think you need it tonight, anyway."

"Nuh-uh, just because I'm jealous of one guy does _not_ mean that I'm the needy one for the night."

"Well you're certainly acting like it."

"Oh, alright," Harry huffs. "So I am."

"Does that mean it's my turn?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. What time are we getting up?"

Draco pulls off Harry's sleeping shirt. "Does it matter?" He crawls on top of Harry, burying his face in the Slytherin's neck at the same time that he slides off Harry's underwear.

He feels Harry's jaw line turn up in a smile. "Has it ever?"

Draco simply breathes against Harry's neck: "No."

_**XxX**_

_The next afternoon…_

"I'm not going to cry, I swear to god," a voice whispers around the corner of the house.

Draco knows exactly whom the voice belongs to. He steals a glance at Harry, but the Slytherin is still watching the skies for the three Order members.

"You're already crying, Luke," a second voice whispers. Draco knows that one, too.

"Dammit, Paris, I told you not to call me that!"

"Yes, and I told you not to call me Paris." There's a small silence, followed by the sound of separating lips.

Draco smiles to himself. He and Harry barely woke up an hour ago, and it took Draco half that time to figure out how to use a muggle phone (Vernon was not happy the boys were still there) to call Rawr to make him come say goodbye. Apparently Vernon kicked them all out at about five in the morning, and he said they couldn't come back until the twenty-sixth so the Dursley's could spend time as a family. Draco nearly dropped the phone when London answered and told him everything…

…  
**_FLASHBACK_**  
…

"_Draco, you are a genius, I love you," London says through the…receiver? Yeah, that's what it's called._

"_Naw, I just gave you basic tips. Honestly, you should have been talking to Harry. He's at least been with somebody other than me to know if all men are the same."_

"_Yes, I know all about zat. Tha'tis not the point, though! The point is, I am not single anymore, and it is terrific!"_

"_What'd you say to him, anyway?"_

"_V'ell, we v'ere all lying down on the basement floor, see, and I had no idea what I was going to do. Thing is, I do not sleep—did I tell you that? No, I did not. My having purple eyes does not allow me to sleep. It's actually quite handy, really—so I was able to see that the last person that v'as av'ake was Luke! It v'orked out perfectly. Anyv'ay, v'e v'ere already lying next to each other, so I pushed myself up on my elbow and just looked over at him. He eventually noticed me staring, and asked me what I was doing. Blah, blah, blah, to cut a long story short v'e talked about you a lot and about how he's most likely never going to see you again after tomorrow. Yada, yada, yada, another long story short, I leaned over and kissed 'im on the forehead—thanks for the advice that kissing people on the lips right av'ay probably isn't the best idea, by the v'ay. So then he v'as just staring at me for a moment, and I v'as just smiling like an id'ot, and the next thing I know he is the one kissing ME on the lips! It was beautiful, Draco."_

_Draco laughs. "You act like you've never kissed somebody before, London. There's no way you've been single your entire life."_

"_No, I 'ave had two others. The first v'as just with me because I am attractive though, and the second v'as with me because I'm good at math and he wanted help with all of his homework. You v'ould think being more Veela than anything else would give me this v'eird understanding of people using me, but I guess not. Luke seems much better than the other men, thankfully."_

_Draco nods, even though Harry told him earlier that whoever's on the other end can't see the other person. "He's cool, I know it. And if he isn't, punch him in the face for me."_

"_No, you can do it yourself! Ve've got to come over and say goodbye or he vill have an aneurism."_

_Draco sighs. "Harry and I are leaving really soon. We've already contacted the people who are taking us away. You've got to come now."_

"_Alright, ve'll be on the other side of the left corner of the house v'hen you v'alk out of the door. V'hen it is clear, say something about how nice the clouds are."_

"_Uh, okay, got it. See you two soon?"_

"_Sooner than soon."_

_There's a click, and then Draco drops the phone with a scream when a deep baritone moan sounds through the device._

"_What is he doing?" Draco asks as Harry puts the phone away._

"_That's just the phone, Drake," Harry says with a grin._

"_Oh, right. I knew that."_

….  
**END FLASHBACK**  
….

"Come on, use my sleeve to v'ipe those few tears away," London's voice says. "I'tis not the end of the world. You vill see him again, I am sure. Harry 'as got to come back during the summer, and maybe he vill come v'ith him. In fact…" There's a short pause. "I vill make _sure_ he comes."

There's a sigh, and Draco knows that's Rawr. "I still feel bad about—"

"No, stop it. I understand all that. Come on, Draco is listening to everything v'e say already."

Draco blushes. "Uh, aren't the clouds lovely today?"

London sticks his head around the corner with a condescending look. "V'e hate you."

"Hey, come on," Draco says, "if you knew I was listening why didn't you stop talking earlier?"

"Because I didn't know when you _started_ listening." He and Rawr come out from behind the house, both still in pyjamas.

"So how was sleeping?" Harry asks with looking away from the sky.

"Great," both boys say together, though Draco has a feeling Harry's question was only for London.

Without another word, Draco launches across the now short distance to Rawr and wraps his arms around the boy's neck. Rawr hugs him back around the waist tightly.

"I'm never going to see you again," Rawr whispers.

"Nonsense," Draco says. "You heard London. He's going to make sure I come back. I wouldn't mess with him if my life depended on it."

They pull away from each other, and Rawr automatically holds his hand out to London, who takes it instantly. Draco wishes Harry wasn't so preoccupied with the sky so he could do that, but he doesn't blame him for ignoring the whole thing. Draco wouldn't want to watch his boyfriend hug some other bloke either.

"Do you remember how I never got you anything for Christmas?" Rawr asks.

"Like I asked you to? Yeah, why?"

"Well, I had sort of already gotten you something…"

Draco frowns.

"I was saving it for Christmas or your last day here. Today it's both… Do you want it?"

Draco pinches the bridge of his nose. "Yes, Rawr," he mutters. "Of course I want it."

Rawr turns back to London, and London reaches into a bag that Draco didn't see at first and pulls out a box about the size of his hand.

Taking the box from London, Draco says to Rawr, "If this cost you more than ten dollars, I will kill you."

"Don't worry," Rawr says. "It was only five Galleons."

Draco looks up from the box and into Rawr's eyes. "What did you say?"

Rawr takes a deep breath, and London squeezes his hand. "I'm a Squib."

Draco nearly drops the box, and even Harry looks over. "No," he says, holding the box tightly. "Squib's are rarer than this. You guys are joking, right? You're kidding."

Both Rawr and London shake their heads no.

"I met his parents," London says. "His father is a muggle, but his mother is the sister of the very pureblood Drusilla Greengrass. Her daughter, Loki, went to school at Beauxbatons. You 'ave met her, I am sure."

Draco nods. He knew the Greengrass's well—and he hated all of them. They stopped associating themselves with Draco's family when father was convicted for the second time, though, which Draco is and was very okay with.

"Yes, v'ell, v'ithout going into anymore family background, because I am good at that," London continues, "Rawr is like me minus the Veela part, and you are going to have to accept it."

Draco purses his lips. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You're good at hiding your magic," Rawr says. "Except for your room. When I went into your room with Dudley the second week of your stay, I realized that you were a wizard, and I didn't want to tell you that I was a Squib because I didn't know if you were into the whole pureblood thing. Do you remember when you punched me in the stomach?"

"Serves you right for trying to wake me up during a nightmare," Draco says, crossing his arms. "Dudley warned you not to do it."

"Right, so you do remember. The decorations you had…any muggle would mistake them for creative Christmas décor, but all I was doin' was tryin' to figure out if you were in Slytherin or Gryffindor. I couldn't decide which main colour or animal you liked better, and all of the colours were placed evenly throughout the room. So you're one, and Bolt's the other. I couldn't decide until the day that I bought your gift which one you were."

"And what did you decide?"

"After all of this, I've decided that there's not a chance in hell that you're Slytherin."

Draco grins. "Very insightful of you. Can I open this, now?"

He smiles. "Yeah, go ahead."

Draco looks at Harry first, but he's looking back up at the sky again. So Draco turns back to the box with a sigh, and slowly lifts the lid.

_**OoOoOoO**_

When the lid is up, Draco nearly drops the box again, but this time it's because his present _roared_ at him. It's a miniature lion, wearing a Gryffindor scarf and the type of hat that Santa wears.

As soon as Harry glimpses it he continues to try and not glare at Rawr, but it's not even kind of working.

"Oh, _Rawr_," Draco gushes, and Harry forces himself not to mock the whole thing. Draco picks up the feline, and it fits snuggly in his hand, rubbing its mane against Draco's fingers. Draco looks up at the other blond, who's at the moment held tightly in Bravery's arms.

"It's not permanent," Rawr says, motioning with his head at the lion. "Magic just makes him move around for the next couple of weeks. He just sleeps most of the time, and you don't even have to feed him anything."

"Rawr, it's amazing," Draco says, smiling brightly at him. He turns to Harry, who quick forces himself even harder not to glare at Rawr. It works a bit better now.

"'Ry, isn't it the cutest?" he asks.

"Yeah, I saw it," Harry mutters, looking back up at the sky with crossed arms.

"Harry, stop it."

"Oh, al_right_," he says with a sigh, turning away from the clouds. He wraps his arms around Draco's waist (Vernon's no doubt watching through the window, and he must be having a heart attack at what the neighbors must be thinking about all these gays standing out front of his house) and peers down at the creature. It reminds him a lot of his fourth year, when he pulled miniature dragons out of a bag to see which real one he was going to fight. He ended up giving the dragon to George, but George mysteriously gave it to Hagrid and still refuses to tell Harry why. He doesn't care much anymore, though; too much work to think about the reason people are given mini dragons.

"You have to admit, it's cute," Draco says, looking…

"Draco, dear sweet Merlin, oh my gods and everything holy," Harry gasps.

"_What's wrong_?" all three other boys all but scream.

"I'm _taller_ than you!" Harry says, dropping his arms from Draco's waist. "Look, my eyes are level with your forehead!"

Draco blinks up at Harry—_up_ at Harry.

"Is he usually shorter than you, Hatchet?" Rawr asks Draco.

"Obviously," Bravery says, smiling down at Rawr, who sticks his tongue out back.

"Wow…" Draco says, looking up at Harry. "You've practically gained an entire inch on me. Wow. It's amazing what a month can do to you. That's…damn, that's no fun at _all_."

"Are you kidding?" Harry says, throwing his arms back around his blond's waist. "This is great. Drake, your lion is the cutest thing in the world, and we're keeping it forever. What do you want to name him? How about Hon, from Star Wars, or Pip from the Lord of the Rings, or—"

"Harry," Draco says, putting a finger to Harry's lips, "you're going to hurt yourself. I don't know what Store Wars is, but I did finish The Fellowship of the Ring. I think we should name it Marian instead. I like him more than Pip."

"I don't care," Harry says, still smiling. "It's your lion, and you can name him whatever you like. I'm going to get a snake and name him Horse, though, if that's all the same to you."

Harry swivels his head around before anyone can say anything, hearing something behind him.

"Halloo, Harry!" says a very cheery looking Tonks, walking around from behind the house with Lupin beside her. In fact, not only are her eyebrows still different colours, her eyes are _two_ different colours: blue and yellow.

"Heyuh, Tonks!" Harry says, letting go of Draco to skip over to her. "Are you all in the backyard where we apparated to yesterday?"

She and Lupin nod.

"Where's Mad-Eye?"

"Still back there," Lupin says. "He freaked some of the neighbors out last time."

He looks up and sees the other three boys.

"Hello, Draco," he and Tonks say together. "Who are you friends?" Lupin adds.

"This is Luke," Draco says, jumping over to the other blond. "He gave me a miniature lion for Christmas, and even though I told him not to I love him for it."

"And his boyfriend there," Harry says, "is Bravery London Lockhart the 2nd."

Rawr waves awkwardly and Bravery tries to bow around Rawr in an even more awkward way.

"Yeah, I know you," Tonks says. "You're the three-fourths Veela Squib thing, right?"

Lupin puts his hands on her shoulders. "Terrible sorry, Mr. Lockhart. My friend here doesn't know where her manners have gone off to."

"Oh, whatever," Tonks says, rolling her eyes. She grabs two trunks that Harry and Draco brought out and starts to take them into the backyard, muttering unintelligently to herself.

"I do not care," Bravery says. "Ve're both Squibs." He motions with a tilt of his head to Rawr, who blushes a bit.

"Nothing to be ashamed of, Mr.…?"

"Fletcher," Luke says, nodding once. "Luke Fletcher."

"Well, don't let anything get your down, Mr. Fletcher. Magic isn't as great as everybody makes it out to be." He looks up at the sky and sighs. "It mutates you when you least expect it."

There's an awkward silence that is ended with a cough from Bravery.

"Come along then, boys," Lupin says, taking another bag, leaving two more things for Harry and Draco to take. "We're waiting for you in the yard."

Harry stands there awkwardly as Draco hugs Rawr and Bravery goodbye. He's not about to say anything to Rawr, and he sees Bravery every once in a while anyway. Draco's finally done being a sap, though, and he takes Harry's hand, Harry's bag in his own free hand and the Glimmer Bag slung over Draco's free shoulder, and walks into the backyard.

"Mornin', Harry," Moody says with a nod. "Mornin', Draco."

"Hello, Mad-Eye," Harry says brightly (he's still thrilled about being taller than Draco).

"Hi, Mr. Moody," Draco says quietly.

Because nobody brought an extra brook for Draco (with Marian on Draco's shoulder, licking Draco's neck—which is totally Harry's job) he's holding tightly to Harry, and Harry holds Lupin's hand as they apparate in front of the Hogwarts gate.

"Hey, Drake?" Harry says as they fly lazily across the grounds to the main entrance. He's got a feeling they'll be going straight to Lavender, though—hell, she'll probably even be waiting right inside to ambush Draco.

"Yeah, 'Ry?" Draco asks.

"You know that, unless it's for your safety, you're never going back, right?"

"Yeah," he says quietly, at length. "Bravery knows too. It's Rawr I'm worried about."

"I'll tell him hi for you when I see him during the summer."

Draco sighs through his nose. "Thanks, 'Ry."

"You know I love you, Drake."

"I know you do. I understand."

"Hey, I can tell him you said hi when—"

"Can I sleep with you tonight?"

Harry smiles. "Maybe I should sleep with you instead. Neville might go berserk on us."

Draco actually laughs a bit. "Yeah, alright. Come on, I need to see 'Ender."

Harry grins. "I knew you would say that."

* * *

A/N: 1. So about the whole thing about London/Bravery having purple eyes. I just made up that condition on my own, so just go with it and everything about it and yeah. Haha.

2. Also, because they don't actually have the whole broomstick ride (sorry, I know how important that is to us Drarry shippers, but it's just not here!) I put it right here at the end :P


	22. Year 6, Part XII

**Year Six, Part XII: And Everyone Was Happy**

Beginning chapter A/N's: 1. I just want to let it be known that this chapter is mostly in Neville's perspective, because I've totally been neglecting him. And a few other reasons that you'll soon know ^-^

2. I'd like to dedicate this chapter to a school I visited down in New Mexico for the tour that I and the rest of the Concert Choir got to go on. On a board they had "HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY" written out, except the _VALENTINE'S_ part was pretty much erased. I mentioned it out loud, and some random dude there was like, "Yeah, we never really got past that whole thing… We were all pretty much alone." And I, being the wonderful tumblr user that I am, replied, "Yeah, sounds like me. Forever alone!" And he was like "*:DDDD* Meeeemes?" Sadly he has no idea what tumblr is, but it was worth a shot! I _almost_ found my fiancé, but not quite!

* * *

"DRAAACOOOOO!"

Lavender launches across the small space between her and Draco, knocking Harry's blond onto his back and making Marian dig his tiny claws into Draco's shoulder to hold on for dear life. Neville walks over to Harry slower, a smile on his face.

"Glad to have you back, son," he says as Lavender does everything but kiss Draco, asking him what he's been doing and how he's been sleeping and who did he meet and all of those little things.

"Glad to be back, dad," Harry says, grinning. "Fred and Uncle George head out?"

"Yeah, hours ago, but not before redecorating your room. I hope you like red."

Harry groans. "That is so not okay."

"Hey, I bet you'll never guess what happened last night."

"No, I probably won't. What did the twins do?"

"Actually, it was _Ginny_."

"Oh, yuck. What'd she do?"

"She snuck into the kitchen and nicked half of the firewhiskey storage. She drank two and a half bottles before giving the rest out to random people in the castle, singing songs about snow globes and oceans. You should have _seen_ the look on Snape's face."

Harry's jaw drops. "Merlin, that's insane! What happened to her?"

"Well, after she puked in the middle of our common room—Fred accidentally let her in when he opened it to leave—McGonagall swooped in and took her to Dumbledore's office. Nobody knows what he told her except for the fact that she was one step away from being expelled from Hogwarts for the rest of the year. George knows more since he's used the Hidden Tongues on her, but the only thing he'll tell anybody is that there are two reasons that she got to stay, and one of them is that she needs to finish this year for her OWLs."

"What's that?" Lavender asks. She's off of Draco now, but they're still sitting on the floor.

"What's what?" Harry and Neville ask.

"The Hidden Tongues thing."

Harry and Neville look at each other, and Harry asks, "You didn't tell her?"

Neville shrugs.

Lavender is by the Slytherin's side in less than a second, and Draco follows suit. "Tell me what?" Lavender asks. "I can't believe I don't know something yet. This is an odd experience for me. I mean, not knowing about Ron and Hermione was new, but that was more annoying than anything."

"I don't want to say it," Neville says, holding his hands up and taking a few steps back. "It's too confusing."

"Well, it's not like I remember it all that well, either," Harry says, backing away from Lavender.

She follows him, though, and he knows he's trapped.

"Mom, you can't be mad at me…" Harry says (ignoring the word look he gets from Draco at calling Lavender after a deceased woman), backing up to the wall behind him and sitting down.

"Why would I be mad at you?" Lavender asks, sitting down beside him. Draco sits down in front of him, and Neville sits down closer to Lavender than he does to Harry. Harry's not sure if that makes sense or if it surprises him. They are "married", after all.

"Because," Harry says, looking back at the Gryffindor girl, "Neville, Draco, and I should have told you about this a _long_ time ago."

_**XxX**_

_The next evening…_

"Harry, there's someone at the door for you," Greg says from outside of the curtain surrounding Harry's bed. Draco is in his own room tonight, because he has friends of his own that missed him, so Harry's lying in his bed on his own.

"Who?" Harry asks without pulling the curtain back.

"Um, nobody that you really want to see…"

Harry yanks the curtain back to see Ginny standing at the door, an entire bottle of firewhiskey in her hand.

"You're right," he says, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. "It _is_ nobody I that really want to see."

Ginny swallows, but says nothing.

"I'll just…I'll go," Greg says awkwardly, going around the girl.

Blaise isn't here anyway—he hardly ever is anymore; always somewhere with Silvi—and Neville is sitting in the common room with Lavender, Hermione, and Millicent (the larger girl around much either lately, for reasons unknown to Harry) doing who knows what.

"I don't even understand why you think you have the right to stand outside of this door," Harry growls, walking over to her.

She presses her lips into a hard line. "I brought this for you," she says quietly, holding the bottle out to him.

"What, you didn't drink them all already?"

From behind her back she produces a bottle of water. "I brought this to go with it. I know you don't like drinking things straight."

Harry blinks down at her. "How did you know that?"

"Just because _you_ hate _me_ doesn't mean _I_ don't hate _you_."

Harry sighs, taking both the firewhiskey and the water. "Thanks." He sets them on his bed, and then turns back around to face her. "Is that all?"

She opens her mouth, but closes it again. She just stares at him for a few more minutes, and finally actually says something: "I'm okay with him now. I'm okay with Malfoy. I mean, I'm okay with you being with him and...and stuff."

"Yeah, so?"

She averts her eyes. "I was wondering if I could be friends with you and the rest of the gang again."

"Why on earth would you think a thing like that?"

She sighs. "Alright, whatever, I'm sorry I came in here. Just...argh. Have fun with your firewhiskey, fucking lightweight."

Ginny spins around and walks back up the stairs to get to the Slytherin common room, and grabbing his wand Harry follows her out so he can hang out with Lavender and Neville. He's sick of his room anyway.

He barely takes a seat beside Lavender before she says, "Harry, it's the season of giving. _For_giving only has three extra letters..."

"But I don't _want_ tooo," Harry whines.

"Do it anyway or I'll do it for you."

Grumbling unintelligibly to himself, Harry follows Ginny to her table of...well, considering that it's eleven at night, all of her friends are asleep.

"Hey, Gin?" Harry says, using her old nickname.

Ginny looks up at him, a sad look on her face.

"It's only a day after Christmas. Come on over and sit with us, won't you?"

Her smile lights up the entire room. She stands up beside him, looking at him with absolute adoration, even as they start to walk back.

Merlin, she is _short_.

"If you do anything like that ever again," Harry says, looking down at her, "I'll dig your eyes out with a spoon."

"Got it," she says, looking away from him. "No being a bitch."

"Good luck."

"Thanks, I'll need it."

Harry grins. Maybe it is okay having Ginny back. She did bring him firewhiskey, after all. She even brought water. That adds tons of bonus points.

_**OoOoOoO**_

_The next morning..._

"Neville! Neville, _look_!"

Neville yanks his eyes open unhappily, ready to take out whoever's waking him up before his body wants him to on Christmas vacation. When he sees that it's Lavender, he just sighs.

"Look at what, Lav?" he asks, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. "Hang on, how did you get in here?"

"What?" she says. "You don't think I don't have the password anymore? Yeah right. Now look!" She holds something above Neville's face, and it takes him a second to realize that it's an envelope. The front reads:

/

_Mr. Blaise Zabini_  
_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_  
_Slytherin Common Room_  
_Sixth Year Boys Dorm_

/

"Um, why do you have Blaise's letter?"

"He only had a paragraph. The rest of the stuff that was inside was for me. I woke up earlier and decided to wait for you in the common room, and Blaise happened to be up, too! He said he got the letter last night, and then he gave it to me, and I nearly hugged him. I've already opened it and read it, of course, and Mrs. Anastasia Zabini says that she wants to set up an interview with me!"

There's a quiet grown from Greg's bed, so she bites her bottom lip, knowing that she's being way too loud.

"She said that it wouldn't be until sometime next spring, though," she whispers, "because she's extremely busy. She didn't get Blaise's letter until just two weeks ago, and it's taken all this time for her to open it up and read the whole thing!" She giggles. "Oh, Neville, I'm so excited!"

"Wow, Lav," he says, wishing he was more awake so he could give her some proper enthusiasm. "That's awesome. That's amazing, actually. I bet you'll have your outfit picked out a month in advance."

"Psh, it's already lying out. I mean, by that time fashion will be different, so I'll change it out. But just in case I can get in to see her earlier."

"Awesome. Hey, Lavender, I have an idea."

"Yeah? What's that?"

"You should keep waiting for me, because I'm about to fall back asleep."

She rolls her eyes. "No way, man. I'm going to go wait for Draco. See you later." She presses a kiss to Neville's forehead, and he barely even notices it. She does that a lot when she's leaving Neville; he has no idea what it means or why she does it, but he doesn't really care. He just expects it, now, because she's done it so much.

Closing his curtain again, Neville rolls over to go back to sleep.

_**XxX**_

_One month and twenty days later…_

"It's weird," Lavender says, flitting around her bedroom, doing some last minute Valentine's decorating of the beds and walls. "Five years coming to school here and I've never figured out that the sixth and seventh years have a Valentine's Day party at The Three Broomsticks every year. I suppose you could have seen it coming, though. The Ron and Hermione thing was like this foreshadowing sign that I'm not going to know a lot from here on out." She sighs, looking over at Neville. "You've got an outfit picked out, right?"

"Why would I have an outfit picked out twenty-four hours before an event?" Neville asks, wrinkling his nose up. "Just because I like men doesn't mean I'm _that_ gay."

"Considering that you like girls too, that wasn't my assumption. I just want to know what you're wearing so I can pick something else before you embarrass yourself without _you_ picked out."

Neville blinks at her. "Do you have any idea how rude you are?"

"Oh yes, I'm fully aware. But you're my date, and you're going to have to live with it. After I pick something out for you I'm going to need to plan my outfit around yours, because if you wear something brown and I wear something red we're going to look horrible together."

"Lavender, out of all the girls I've ever met, you astound me the most."

She winks. "I try."

_**XxX**_

_The next evening..._

Lavender chose out the regular suit-looking dress robes for Neville, which he was going to choose anyway. His tie is silver, though, which he doesn't understand considering that she's Gryffindor and should have chosen gold. She did his hair and everything, too, and then sent him off to the party without her so she could get ready herself. Neville's used to her being mysterious, so he walked down with Hermione and Ron, Greg and Millicent (they decided to go together weeks ago so they wouldn't have the pressure of finding anybody), Blaise and Silvi, Pansy and Parvati (going as friends since they apparently couldn't find a date), and Harry and Draco. It's forbidden for any sixth or seventh years to bring anybody in fifth year or below, nor is it okay to tell them about the party. The professors like to keep it a surprise for everybody, and Neville hasn't any clue how they've managed to keep it secret all of these years. Hogwarts castle is not a fan of _secrets_.

Now Neville's sitting at a table with Parvati (Pansy got asked to dance) while everybody else dances and does who knows else what.

"I don't understand how I don't have a date for this," Parvati mutters darkly. "I at least went with Ron to the Yule Ball."

"But even then you guys just _sat_ there," Neville says, grinning at her.

Parvati sticks her tongue out like a true sixth year. Neville rolls his eyes at her and looks away, and when he does his brain stops.

It's Lavender, making her way across the dance floor from the door to the table that Neville's at. She's wearing dress robes of a shimmering, silvery blue (which is different from everybody else wearing the classic pink, red, or purple colours), and her ice blue high heel shoes (sprinkled with white sparkles) make her a few inches taller than she usually is, with straps curling around her ankles like snakes curling around a staff.

"You just had to choose the table as far from the door as possible," she says, sitting down beside him. "Oh, hello Parvati. I like your dress robes; very original."

Neville notices Parvati's clothes for the first time, and it's mostly just a lot of orange and pink. Like her Yule dress, actually.

_Why do I remember that?_ he thinks, mentally punching himself in the face.

"Oh, thank you," Parvati says. "You look _far_ more beautiful though. Your hair is amazing."

Lavender smiles at her. "Thanks."

They start talking about their shoes, and that's when Neville decides to tune out. He looks out on the dance floor, scanning for people that he knows. Blaise, Silvi, Millicent, and Greg are at the bar (of course, there's only non-alcoholic beverages for the sixth years since they're not of age yet), Hermione and Ron are making out in a corner, and Harry, Draco, and Pansy are all having a jigging contest, laughing with tears in their eyes.

"Neville? Neviillleee..."

Neville tears his eyes away from the dance floor and looks over at Lavender. "Sorry, what?"

"Do you want to dance now?" she asks, smiling brightly at him.

He looks over at Parvati. "Won't you be lonely?"

She shrugs. "I'll just go dance with Pansy."

Neville nods, and he and Lavender stand up. He remembers how to dance; he took Ginny to the Yule Ball in his fourth year, and even she admitted that he was good at it—he knows she wasn't lying because she's too much of a bitch to lie to make someone feel better.

"Want to hear a joke?" Neville asks as he and Lavender twirl around the room, adding the throng of those who are already dancing.

"Depends," Lavender says. "Is it funny?"

"I don't know, I remember it from when I was a kid. It just popped up in my head randomly."

She gives him a half smile. "Yeah, let's hear it."

"Cool. Spell out _I cup_. Like _I_ am Neville, not you have two _eye_s."

She cocks an eyebrow. "I-C-U-P."

Neville sits there, grinning at her.

It takes another second, but Lavender bursts into laughter, pulling herself away from Neville so they stop moving. When she's finished, she looks up at him with the type of smile you give somebody when you can't believe they just said something.

"I suppose you think that was terribly clever," she says, grinning at him with the same look.

"Oh, shush, you know I'm funny."

"Looks aren't everything."

Neville rolls his eyes at her and start walking back to the table.

"I don't think so," she says, grabbing his hand. "I didn't come here to sit. If you don't want to dance anymore let's at least go outside and take a walk. It's Valentine's Day, after all."

Neville shrugs, and he and Lavender push their way through the crowd and out the doors of The Three Broomsticks.

"I hate how February is still in winter," Neville says, automatically putting his arm around Lavender's shoulders. After they became Harry's parents, they even ended up starting acting like spouses except for the whole romantic thing. It wasn't a decided thing...it just happened. "You'd think they'd put it in the summer or something."

"Maybe they thought we'd have weather stabilizers by now," Lavender says, throwing her arm around Neville's waist. "But I do admit, it is still freezing out. Want to go flying?"

Neville frowns. "Neither of us have a brooms."

"Psh, don't give me technicalities. The school has extra brooms in the locker rooms."

It takes a long time, but the Slytherin and Gryffindor finally reach the Quidditch pitch. Neville's about to suggest that he goes into the guys locker room and grabs two brooms for them, but before he can, Lavender walks right in. So Neville follows her, and they pick out the two best looking brooms before going back out onto the sand.

"Are we actually going to play anything, or are we just sort of flying around?" Neville asks.

"I don't have anything to throw around," Lavender says, pursing her lips. She looks around, and then looks down at the ground. "We could use your shoe."

Neville frowns. "Aside from the fact that they probably stink, couldn't we just use yours?"

"Aside from the fact that we can use charms to ward the smell away, my heels will probably impale your hand."

Neville laughs. "How about we just fly, then? We can race and tell bad jokes."

"No, _you_ can tell bad jokes," she says, grinning. "I'll recite quotes and poems and riddles to confuse you in your flight."

"Want to fly over the lake, then? If we fly high enough nothing will be able to jump out and grab us."

Lavender rolls her eyes. "Forget racing, then. We'll just...I don't know, take turns saying something."

"Brilliant idea."

It only takes a moment to get to the lake with brooms, and the moon is shining through the clouds like a symphony of candles have been lit.

"Rainer Maria Rilke, "Vigils III", from _Sacrifice to the Lares_," Lavender says. She clears her throat and continues from memory:

/

_Hark, the footsteps of the night  
Fade in silence long.  
Quiet chirps my reading light  
Like a cricket's song._

_Books inviting us to read  
On the bookshelves sag.  
Piers for bridges that will lead  
Into fairyland._

/

Neville blinks at her. "Wow. That's really pretty."

Lavender smiles at him as she flies around him in circles. It reminds him of the moon revolving around the earth, how the earth is going in circles around the sun at the same time that the moon is circling the moon. "Tell me one," she says. "I could always use some more poems in my memory."

"Actually, I wanted to tell you a riddle."

"Alright, shoot."

"There's a basket on a table, and inside the basket there are five apples. There are five women in the room, and all five of those women take an apple. There's still one apple in the basket when they all take one. How?"

Lavender blinks at him. "Give me a minute."

Ten minutes of absolute silence follow Lavender's sentence, Lavender thinking about Neville's riddle and Neville looking around at his surroundings and thinking about how it's even colder up here than it was right outside of the Three Brooksticks.

"I give up," Lavender says. "How?"

"One of the women," Neville says, a grin on his face, "instead of taking an apple out of the basket, took the basket. So all five women got an apple, but one of the apples stayed in the basket."

Lavender's jaw drops. "No way! That is so obvious! I can't believe I didn't think of that!" She grumbles unintelligibly to herself for a few moments, and Neville catches a lot of cuss words.

_Have I ever heard Lavender swear, even once?_ he thinks. _No, I don't think so. Wow, and she's so forceful, too. I wish I could do that._

"Whatever," she eventually says. "It's my turn again."

"Go ahead."

She clears her throat, and speaks:

/

_Maybe love, she thought now, flat on her back staring up at the ceiling, is just a lie two people tell each other, and for it to work, they both have to believe it._

/

Neville blinks at her. He's heard that before. He's read it somewhere, in a book that he read. He doesn't remember what it was, but it was a long time ago. Something…something really long, and something that had a poem or a quote at the beginning of every part and chapter. Something with some of the best lessons he had ever learned as a younger Hogwarts student.

Without clearing his throat, Neville quotes the only poem he managed to memorize from it:

/

_Into that world inverted  
Where left is always right,  
Where the shadows are really the body,  
Where we stay awake all night,  
Where the heavens are shallow as the sea  
Is now deep, and you love me._

/

Lavender's broom suddenly allows her to close the small space between her and Neville faster than Neville could _ever_ move. Her lips press softly to his, lifting her arms away from her broom and throwing them around Neville's neck. Neville reaches his own hands up and lightly cups her face. He lets them drop slowly to her waist, tracing along her neck and sides.

When they pull apart for air, Lavender looks like she's about to start laughing.

"What, am I that bad of a kisser?" he asks, tilting his head in question.

"No," she says, releasing a short chuckle. "I just never pictured our first kiss over the middle of the lake."

Neville blinks at her. "You've thought about this before?"

She rolls her eyes. "Over a month of being somebody's wife does that to a girl, not to mention having a child."

"I thought you thought that _I_ was a child, too."

"I do. That's what husbands are for, you ninny."

"Yeah, well, wives are for cleaning and making dinner. So I hope you're up for my problem with forgetting to put my shoes away."

"I clean up your dorm area anyway, why not the whole house?"

"I don't like crust on my sandwiches."

"I know."

"And I'm allergic to bee stings."

"No you're not."

Neville grins. "And here I thought you only hung around me because of Harry."

She shrugs. "You crept up on me."

"You practically leapt on me as soon as my mouth shut with that poem."

"I'm just glad you've read that book before. I wish I remembered its title."

Neville laughs. "I don't remember it either."

Lavender smiles, showing off her milky white teeth. "Kiss me again."

Neville does. Unlike all of the kisses that he gave Millicent, these ones are real.

_**OoOoOoO**_

_Sometime in the middle of the night, after Draco and Harry leave the party…_

"Where are you taking me?" Harry asks Draco for the umpteenth time, a blindfold over his eyes.

Draco rolls his eyes. "It's a secret, Harry, you know that. It would give away the surprise _and_ what the present is if I told you."

"It's Valentine's Day, not my birthday! Well, a few hours after Valentine's Day, but whatever."

"You don't tell me my present, I won't tell you yours. Watch out, there's another flight of stairs now—and then we're going to be there, and you can take the blindfold off after I get your present from the rafters."

"Rafters?"

"You heard me. Watch your ste—"

"Ouch," Harry says, kicking his foot into the step.

"Dammit, come here." Draco lets go of Harry's hand and waist, and then wraps his arms around him in such a way that he can swing him into his arms like a baby.

"Wow," Harry says, snuggling into Draco's chest. "All I need is to be wearing a wedding dress and we're ready for our honeymoon."

"Considering that we're at the owelry," Draco says, setting Harry lightly on his feet at the top of the stairs, "I sure as hell hope this isn't our honeymoon."

Harry turns to Draco, and then reaches up and lifts up the blindfold so he can stare at Draco. "Owelry?"

Draco smiles warmly at his green-eyed wonder. "Go look."

Harry rips off the blindfold completely and looks into the room. Owls are swooping around everywhere, hooting around the room.

He looks back at Draco, an incredulous look on his face. "You _didn't_."

"I wouldn't bring you here if I hadn't," Draco says, smiling warmly at Harry.

Harry practically runs farther into the room, spinning around to look for his present.

"That one?" Harry asks.

He's pointing at a snowy white owl on the highest rafter, and it's staring down at Harry with its big yellow eyes.

Draco walks over to him. "Yeah, that's him. He was the youngest one they had, too, so you'll have him longer."

Harry's arms are thrown around Draco's neck without warning, and he crushes his lips against the blonds. Draco grips Harry's waist, pulling his Slytherin tightly against him.

"Does he have a name yet?" Harry whispers, his hands on the sides of Draco's face.

"No," Draco says, pressing a kiss to Harry's lips. "I wasn't sure if you still wanted it to be Hedwig."

Harry kisses him again, pushing his tongue into Draco's mouth. "Hedwig's still it," he says at length. "Can I hold him?"

"Of course you can. He's your owl."

Harry drops his hands from Draco's face, though Draco keeps his hands on Harry's waist.

The instant that Harry lifts his arm to the owl, it swoops down and lands on it.

"Hedwig," Harry coos, petting the snowy coloured feathers. "You're so pretty..."

Hedwig hoots softly, and Draco tightens his arms around Harry's entire waist.

"Almost as pretty as you," he whispers into Harry's ear.

Harry kisses him. "I suppose you want your present too, now?"

Draco chuckles. "Oh, I don't know, it'd be nice."

Hedwig flies back up to the other owls, and Harry digs into the pocket of his dress robes and reveals to small boxes.

"Let me guess," Draco says, looking down at the boxes. "A revived Marian, and a snake in Slytherin attire named Pippin."

Harry grins. "Guess again."

"Too much work." Draco lets go of Harry's waist and starts to take one of the boxes, but Harry pulls them away, causing Draco to frown at him.

"Open them at the same time," he says, smiling brightly.

Draco does, and if Harry weren't the one holding them, they both would have fallen to the ground.

Draco looks up at Harry, his jaw dropped and eyes wide. "How much did these cost?"

Harry shrugs. "I have no idea. When I told Borgin they were for your Valentine's present he said he'd put them on sale for me. I just gave him a handful of Galleons and told him to keep the change."

Draco reaches into the first box, pulling out one of the two ruby red encrusted rings. He puts it onto his right ring finger and holds it up to look at it. "I completely forgot about these," he says, looking back at Harry. "I can't believe you got them." He pulls out an emerald ring from the second box and puts it on his left ring finger. "This one is staying on my wedding ring finger so everybody knows I'm yours."

Harry smiles warmly. "The emeralds will be ours, then." He shifts the boxes around so that he's able to pull out the second emerald ring and put it on his own left ring finger. He drops the empty box onto the owelry floor. "The other ruby is for you to do with what you please."

Draco takes the fourth ring, puts it into his pocket, knocks the empty box out of Harry's hands, and launches forward to plant a giant kiss on Harry's lips.

Harry doesn't waste any time at all. His hands instantly go to Draco's shoulders, pushing off the sleeves of the dress robe, and as soon as it's off he goes to unbutton his shirt.

"Wait," Draco says, stilling Harry's hands. "You still haven't seen my Room of Requirement fantasy."

Harry grins. "Then show me."

_**OoOoOoO**_

The first thing inside the room that draws Harry's attention is the warm, crackling fireplace. The next thing is the king sized mattress right in front of the fire—just the mattress, positioned on the floor. Its sheets, thick blanket, and three giant pillows are all white as snow in colour. Aside from that, the room isn't all that big to hold anything else. There is a full body mirror hanging from the wall, and a crystal chandelier hanging from the high-towering ceiling, and a teeny-tiny dresser with a closed drawer in the corner, but that's it.

"This is it?" Harry asks, turning to Draco beside him.

Draco shuts the door behind them. "Well what did you expect? Gryffindor upholstery? Come on, I'm nearly more Slytherin than you are sometimes."

Harry turns around to chastise Draco a little more, but the instant that he turns around, Draco literally dive tackles him, sending them flying onto the bed/mattress thing. Only after kissing Harry for a few moments does Draco seem to realize that they're no longer standing, though.

"Oh," he says, looking down at Harry. "Oh, you look so lovely surrounded by all of this white. And I just realized that we left my robe in the owelry. You're paying my cleaning bill."

"Yeah right," Harry says, rolling his eyes.

Draco smiles brightly down at Harry, and Harry gives him the same smile back.

As Harry stares up at his blond, he starts to think about how insane all of this really is.

There's Harry Potter—the Slytherin, the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One—lying on his back underneath Draco Malfoy—the Gryffindor, in danger of becoming a Death Eater, and the son of a man that was one a long time ago that Harry can't help but hate.

But Draco, with his hands on the bed on both sides of Harry's head, with his left knee beside Harry's waist and his right beside his thigh, and Harry's hands on Draco's hips... Well, Harry certainly doesn't care how odd it truly was. And as Draco leans down and kisses Harry softly, Harry's got a pretty good idea that his blond doesn't care either.

_**OoOoOoO**_

_The next morning..._

"Neville, if you're not going to tell them, I will," Neville's new girlfriend says darkly beside him.

Neville rolls his eyes. "Oh, come off it, will you? You know what happened last time I was in a relationship. Harry hated me for a month, and Draco did nothing but cry because of it. I'm just...I'm scared, okay? Give me a moment to be a man!"

"A man?" Lavender says, blinking at him. "Men are weak."

With this, Neville pushes open the door to his dorm. Upon walking inside, he's greeted by one of the messiest rooms he's seen in a long time. There's a pair of very lacey underwear in the middle of the floor, and a shimmering blue painted toenail is peeking out from behind the curtain that surrounds Blaise's bed.

"Well," Lavender says, kicking the underwear away. "This is awkward."

"And they're not here," Neville says, "so we should just go before we wake anybody up."

"Already up," Blaise's voice says groggily from behind the curtain. "We both are. Greg is sleeping in the Gryffindor dorm, and Harry and Malfoy never came back. So you can look for them elsewhere."

"Right," Neville and Lavender say together.

The instant that they get out of the door, closing it behind them, Neville hears two voices at the top of the stairs.

"Merlin, I can't believe you've never told me that," Harry's voice says, laughing. "Really, I think it's cute."

"But it's embarrassing!" Draco's voice mutters in a whisper. "Honestly, wanting to be Swiss cheese for Halloween did not exactly make me _popular_ before Hogwarts."

"Darling, it wouldn't make you popular _during_ Hogwarts. It would probab—oh, Dad! Mom! Hi! We didn't see you there."

"Hey 'Ender," Draco says, leaning forward and kissing Lavender on the cheek. If it weren't for the fact that it's completely normal, Neville would have decked him.

The other couple is in the obvious after-sex-morning feeling, so Neville just wants to get this over with.

"Harry," he says, "I need to tell you something."

"Tell away," Harry says, smiling warmly at him.

"Lavender and I are dating," he says without beating around the bush.

Harry blinks at him. "If you're kidding I'll—"

"He's not kidding," Lavender says, pushing at Harry's shoulder. "If he was kidding I wouldn't be going along with it, you know that."

Harry relaxes a bit. "Yeah, that's true. Wow...wow, you're really together?"

"Damn," Draco says before anyone can answer. "So much for quality time with my best friend."

Lavender lifts her hands up and messes up Draco's already beyond messy hair. "Don't count on getting rid of me that easily. Considering that Neville and I still need to watch over Harry here, you'll be seeing a lot of me."

Both members of the other couple smile warmly at the girl, but then Harry turns back to Neville. "You're finally happy then?"

Neville grins. "You make it sound like I never was."

"You didn't usually act it."

"Yeah, okay, I'm finally happy now, whatever."

Harry grins back. "Love yuh, man."

"Love you to, Harry."

"I disapprove," Lavender and Draco grumble at the same time.

Neville and Harry just laugh.

* * *

References (these notes are _long_, sorry!): 1. Neville's first joke that he said when he and Lavender were dancing? The _I-C-U-P_ one? Yeah, that's an old thing from my childhood. If you're really stupid and didn't sound it out right, it's supposed to say I-see-you-pee. If you've heard it before, I'm sure you remember how old it got so fast. Haha.

2. _"Oh, shush, you know I'm funny."  
"Looks aren't everything."  
_I was sitting in this restaurant called Chihuahua's (amazing Mexican food, I must say—yay for advertising in a Drarry fanfic) with my uncle one day, and I did something I thought was hilarious. When he just sort of blinked at me, though, I said to him what Lavender say, and Neville's line is what he said in reply (my family's so nice to each other)! He's probably not the first person to say it, but he's the first person I've heard it from.

3. _"I suppose you think that was terribly clever."  
_Lavender's sentence is from _The Fellowship of the Ring_ movie. I didn't change it up at all. Gandalf originally says it.

4. Any poems, quotes, or riddles mentioned in this chapter and the rest of this fic aren't mine. If it's not mentioned in the fic who it's by, I'll mention who it is by in future references.

5. And speaking of poems and quotes! The last one that Lavender said is from an amazing HP fanfic called _Draco Veritas_ by Cassandra Claire. (It's a PDF file, so I can email it to you if you want. It's the third in a trio, though, and it's LONG and with two of my least favorite pairings but it was written so well that I loved it anyway! Anyway, if you have any questions about it, just ask me!) And the one that Neville said that made Lav kiss him is by Elizabeth Bishop, though I also learned it from _Draco Veritas_ :)

6. _"A man?" Lavender says, blinking at him. "Men are weak."  
_The part that Lavender's speaking is from _The Fellowship of the Ring_. The actual line is: Elrond: "Men? Men are weak."

/

A/N: So, now that Neville and Luna are finally together…no, they will not be having sex. They're going to be the old-fashioned couple that waits until they're married and then waits to have kids. I'm not sure if I'm going to mention that in the fic or not, so I thought it'd be good if I mentioned it here. Besides, even if they were going to have sex I wouldn't write it out… I refuse to right non-slash sex. How boring. (It sometimes pains me being a girl and knowing more about gay sex than my _own_ sex drive. I can't wait for my first time. It's going to be like… Me: "Oh oh oh I know this great move just let me—shit, I forgot I don't have a penis, never mind." Future sexual partner: "What.")


	23. Year 6, Part XIII

**Year Six, Part XIII: Cloaking the Dagger and Hushing the Secrets**

Beginning chapter A/N's: Okay, not gonna lie, basically the second half of this chapter is completely pointless to the entire fic. It just sort of happened when I was writing it and I don't want to take it out because it was a ton of fun to write. But seriously everything that happens about 3,490 words in (not that you'll actually count it out though; I definitely wouldn't) is like never again mentioned until like the very last page, and that's not even anything that happens specifically. Well…I guess it was mentioned once before at the beach house. But seriously it probably wouldn't even matter that much if you completely skipped the last half of the chapter. But don't!  
Anyway, this chapter is dedicated to all of the little things in life. Like the extra parts in stories that don't matter to the plotline :)

* * *

_Two weeks later, on the first day of March..._

_Harry,  
I would like it if you could meet me in my office as soon as supper is over. And I would much appreciate it if you came alone.  
Sincerely, Albus Dumbledore  
P.S. The gargoyles enjoy Nosebleed Nuggets._

/

_Of course they like Weasley products_, Harry thinks as he walks up the curling staircase to Dumbledore's office. _Everybody misses those two._

Harry steps into the office, and Dumbledore smiles brightly at him from his desk.

"Ah, Harry, it's so good to see you," he says, standing. "How have you been doing lately?"

Harry smiles. "Brilliant, professor. The Hogsmede party was great, and Neville finally has someone real. How about you?"

Dumbledore smiles sadly. "Thank you, Harry, but I have had too much on my mind to have a single feeling."

Harry frowns. "Oh? Anything you can tell me?"

"Actually, nearly all of it I can tell you. That's why I have invited you to my office in the first place."

Harry walks across the room to Dumbledore's desk. "What is it, professor? Is somebody in trouble?"

"Somebody is always in trouble, Harry, but that's not why you're here."

"Then why, sir?"

The Headmaster sits back down. "Take a seat, please."

Harry does.

"Tell me, Harry, have you ever heard of a _horcrux_?"

_**XxX**_

_The next day, during the first break of the day…_

Harry and Draco go out of one of the back doors of the great Hogwarts castle, smiling the entire way to the Black Lake. Harry should have done this a long time ago, but he's finally going to teach Draco how to skip stones.

"I love this place," Harry says, spinning around a couple of times when they get to the shoreline. "Granted, I did have to swim around in it for over an hour…but still."

He digs into his robe pocket and holds up the stone that Dumbledore gave him. He's had it all this time, of course, sitting in the bottom of his trunk. The only reason he thought about coming out here today is because Lavender showed up like she did every morning, but this morning she decided to clean out Harry's trunk again.

"Harry, son, why is there a rock in your trunk?" she had asked.

Harry smiled and took it from her, putting it into his robes without a word and leaving before she could force them out.

"Dumbledore gave me this one," he says, handing it to Draco. (And he tries very hard not to think about Dumbledore even while saying his name. He learned a lot in the Headmasters office...a lot of things that confused him, a lot of things he never wanted to know, and a lot of things he's scared of needing to do. Dumbledore said he couldn't tell anybody about it yet...not even Draco.) "Help me look for ones that look just like this."

"Couldn't we just find random rocks and blast them this way?" Draco asks, looking up at Harry.

Harry blinks at him. "No. I mean, we can, but I've never done that before. No, that's a lie, I've done it once… I swear I searched for an hour before I finally gave up. I was at this beach with my aunt, uncle, Dudley, and a couple of his friends, and there weren't _any_ good rocks."

Draco blinks back. "Alright, you should just teach me how this works now."

The two gather a good sized pile of skipping stones, and then the teaching begins.

The way you have to curve your arm, and curl your fingers, and the way you have to angle just right to get it to bounce off the surface…

After the fifth attempt and_ fail_, Draco collapses onto the grass a little ways back from the lake with a groan. "It's just too much work!"

"Drake, you're giving up to easy! It took me hours to get it down!" Harry grabs Draco's hand and yanks him back into a standing position. "It's just like learning to snap your fingers and whistle!"

And so they keep at it.

Eight times later (although it feels like eight-hundred with all of Draco's groans of protest), Draco's stone bounces twice off the water.

Harry looks over at him brightly and kisses his cheek, and when Draco looks back at him… Merlin, Harry's never seen someone so happy. And over a rock bouncing off the water? Good gods, he loves this kid.

"I did it!" Draco says. "Quick, quick give me another one!"

Harry hands him the last stone in his hand.

Draco curls his fingers around the rock, arches his arm, and throws.

It bounces three times.

He squeals in delight, throws his arms around Harry's waist, and starts to spin him around. "I did it, I did it! I learned! You taught me! I did it!"

"Merlin, Drake," Harry says with a laugh, prying himself out of his arms in such a way that sends him falling backwards onto the grass. "Is it really that exciting?"

Draco throws himself onto the grass beside Harry and presses his lips to his for the briefest of seconds, and then says, "Yes, it's wonderful. I can do something I've never been able to do! Wouldn't you be happy about it?"

"Yes, I suppose," Harry says, rolling his eyes. "Just not as excited as you."

"Hey, hey, I have an idea," Draco says, twisting his fingers into Harry's.

"And what, pray tell," Harry asks, "Is your brilliant idea?"

Draco leans in and kisses Harry strongly on his lips.

By the time Harry comes back to reality, it's only because Draco's watch starts to beep.

"Class started, didn't it?" Harry asks vaguely, his lips still against Draco's.

"Nope," Draco says breathily. "We have three minutes."

At least a minute passes before they realize what they've just said.

_**OoOoOoO**_

They scramble out of the position they're in faster than a bullet leaves a gun. Harry had been beneath Draco, his shirt unbuttoned to reveal his beautiful chest and stomach and nipples and _gah_. Draco doesn't even know what he himself looks like, and he certainly doesn't care.

They scramble to put their clothes and hair back to the right positions, and then, even faster than it took to separate, they run back up to the castle and part ways to get to their next classes without a single word. There really wasn't any use for words at the moment. They were too busy reliving the moment by the lake and living the fact that they were going to be late to class no matter how fast they went.

And of course, all of Draco's transfiguration things are in his room, so he's going to be even later.

And he is by about four minutes when he bursts into Professor McGonagall's classroom.

"Mr. Malfoy!" she says, turning to Draco with a stern look. "What on earth could have made you so late? It's not as though you could have lost your way after all these years."

Draco takes a deep breath and says exactly why he was late (well, not _exactly_): "I was at the lake with Harry, professor. He was teaching me how to skip stones on the lake and we lost track of time…"

The room is already silent from Draco bursting into the room, and it stays that way.

"With Potter, Mr. Malfoy?" she asks, eyes glinting.

"Yes, professor."

"He was teaching you to skip stones, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Yes, professor."

She sighs in the same dignified way that Snape and his mother always manages to pull off. "Three points from Gryffindor, Draco, for being late to my class. Please have a seat in the back of the room." She motions with her wand to the indicated seat, and Draco sees that it's the only completely empty table in the room. She knows that he's best friends with Lavender, so he doesn't know at all why she's saying he can't sit be her.

Draco sits down at the table, and he also realizes then that it's closest to the window, so he can just stare out of it. Of course, as soon as McGonagall starts talking again, he realizes that even though he only misses a few minutes of class he doesn't have a clue what's going on.

"Pardon me, professor?" Draco says, raising his hand.

She looks at him with a disgruntled smile. "Yes, Mr. Malfoy?"

"I seem to have missed something rather important. Can you please do a quick run-through, maybe?"

"Of course!" She rattles off something big and confusing, making Draco wish that he hadn't asked at all. "All caught up now, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Yup," he lies, nodding like he really understands it.

"Good." And then she continues on with the lesson.

Draco was most likely going to ignore the entire lesson anyway, so this just helps him along with idea. His fingers play absentmindedly with one of the flaps on his Glimmer Bag, and his mind wanders to the time that Harry came over to his beach house. He can't remember every sleeping better...

Halfway through the class, though, somebody taps lightly on his shoulder. He leaps about a foot into the air, causing a few people to giggle before they go back to their work. And, looking around, Draco sees that the work has something to do with filling out a thing of parchment that he didn't notice had appeared in front of him.

Draco looks up to see Professor McGonagall looking down at him, her arms lightly crossed and eyes hard. "May I sit beside you, Mr. Malfoy?" she asks, eyeing the two empty chairs beside me.

"Uh, am I even out loud to say no?" Draco says, pulling the chair closest to him out for her.

"As a matter of fact, you are, but I'm not allowing it for the time being." She sits down beside him.

Draco glances around for a second to see all of the faces in the room staring at him, but once they see that Draco is looking back they go back to their parchment—except Lavender, who continues to stare with a confused look on her face.

"May I ask you a couple of questions, Mr. Malfoy?" she asks quietly.

Draco nods.

She presses her lips into a hard line before speaking: "How long have you know that Harry wanted an owl like the one that you gifted to him?"

Draco blinks at her. "Excuse me?"

She gives a dignified sigh again, and then stands. "Come with me, Mr. Malfoy. This classroom is not as private as I would like it to be."

Draco follows her out of the classroom, and that seems to be sufficient enough for her because she stops there as soon as she shuts the door.

"Do you remember my question?" she asks.

"Of course."

"Then please answer it."

"Must I?"

"You must."

"Uh, about since Halloween. We were talking to 'End—I mean, Lavender about what her costume should be, I think."

"Hmm..." She leans against the nearest stone wall and stares off at nothing for about a second. "Thank you Mr. Malfoy. One more thing before you head into my classroom, though."

"Yes, professor?"

"I would like you to forget about today's homework."

Draco blinks at her. "Pardon?"

"Your Transfiguration homework for the day. You're exempt from it."

"But…but why?"

"Would you _like_ it if I made you do it?"

"Uh, no. No thank you."

"Back inside then, Mr. Malfoy, and you can continue to stare out of the window daydreaming about your time at the lake."

Draco's hand is on the handle of the door, but his head snaps back to look at her.

"What, you think nobody saw?" she asks, her eyes dark.

His face heats up, and he know that's it bright pink, if not deep red.

"Never you mind, Draco," she says, patting his shoulder. "All of the professors know about it."

"_All_ of the professors?" Draco asks incredulously. "What, do you have some sort of watch-to-see-the-sexual-encounters-between-Draco-and-Harry meeting?

She gives another dignified sigh. "I'm going to tell you a little secret, Mr. Malfoy, but you have to promise me that you won't tell Harry."

Draco sighs. "Maybe you shouldn't tell me. I'm great at keeping secrets, but I don't think I'd enjoy it."

"Then I cannot tell you."

A voice pops into Draco's head: _He didn't tell you about the Hidden Tongues thing, did he? Don't tell him about this._

Draco grins more evil than healthy. "I promise I won't tell Harry."

She nods. "The professors of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry have a bet, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco blinks at her. "A bet?"

She nods. "Six long years we waited, and there it was, _screaming_."

"And what exactly is the bet, professor?"

"Two bets, actually," she whispers. "The second one playing off of the first. The first bet was that you and Harry would become very dear friends by at least the seventh year, and the second bet was that you would become...well, more than friends. So you can understand that this past year has been very exciting for the professors at this school."

Draco snorts. "They—You—Us—_What_?"

She nods. "There were two sides to the bets. One side believed that you would hate each other forever and the other believed that it _would_ happen."

Draco blinks at her. "You all really did this? All of the professors conspired together and created this?"

"Oh, you'd be surprised what we professors _conspire _and _create_, Draco." She winks.

"Can I ask which professors are on which side?"

She taps her chin to think. "You may ask about three professors."

"Do you count?"

"Yes."

"Well, the three are obvious then, aren't they?"

She gives a half smile. "I assume you're going to ask about me, Professor Snape, and the Headmaster?"

"Almost. You've been confusing lately, so I don't have a clue what side you're on. I know what side Trelawney is on, and most everybody else is simple as well. So I'm going to ask about you, Dumbledore, and Snape."

McGonagall seems to be holding back some laughter, but Draco doesn't have a clue why. "Very good, Draco. Professor Dumbledore is of course on the side that believed you would become friends and then some. Snape is on the same side as I am, which is the side that believed you would never be friends and never more than friends. So you can understand why I've been so…off put by this whole fiasco."

Draco frowns. "Snape is against this?"

"Oh, no, no, no. He is very much for it all now. But that's now. Back at your first year, he was indeed against it. But the both of you have apparently grown on him, and he doesn't seem to much care about the whole thing as long as neither of you die."

Draco nods. "Well, I'm sorry to make you lose, professor."

"Oh, I haven't lost yet. Though I'm sure I'm going to."

Draco cocks an eyebrow. "What do you mean? Harry and I are friends and more than friends, so haven't you lost?"

"Oh no, the bet isn't over until the end of the seventh year."

Draco blinks at her. "Pardon? Why not?"

"It's not just to see if you'll last for a week, Mr. Malfoy. It's a long distance thing. Well, long distance is the wrong word... I mean if you'll last until the last day. If you both end before the last day of your seventh year, then my side of the bet wins. If you break up a week before the end, and then get back together on the end, then my side loses. Do you understand?"

Draco nods. "I understand."

"Good then. And you promise not to tell Harry?"

"I promise."

She nods.

"Is...is that all, Professor?"

"Yes, I believe that's all, Draco. You may go back into my classroom, now. Do not mention this to anybody. If they ask, we were talking about your being late."

Draco nods, and before he has a chance to open the door, Professor McGonagall pushes inside past him.

_I hate keeping secrets_, Draco thinks as he follows her back inside. _No matter how many Harry's kept from me, it's just not right. __Except my number one secret...I wouldn't tell anybody that if my life depended on it. And that's final._

_**XxX**_

_After lunch..._

"Hey, I have an idea," Harry says as he and Draco walk down the paths of the Hogwarts property. "Let's go visit Hagrid. I haven't talked to him in forever."

"Yeah, alright," Draco says, smiling up at him. Up...what a horrible word. Draco never wants to think about it again.

They make their way down the hill to the gamekeepers cottage, and as they're about to knock loudly on the door, they realize that Hagrid is already sitting outside. How they missed him Draco doesn't know.

"Halloo, Hagrid!" Draco calls, separating from Harry to skip over to the big man.

"Oh, hello, Draco! Hello Harry! What brings the both of you 'ere?"

"Just visiting," Harry says, following after Draco slowly.

"What are you doing outside?" Draco asks, sitting beside Hagrid on one of the giant pumpkins. Hagrid isn't sitting on a pumpkin of course, because he'd squish it.

"Oh, I'm jus' waitin' fer Luna."

Draco blinks at the gamekeeper. "Luna? Whatever for?"

"Because," a quiet, dreamy voice says behind them. "We're going to visit the thestrals."

"Right!" Hagrid says, smiling brightly at the blond girl. "Dumbledore gave me permission to bring 'er in with me."

"Oh, can we come?" Harry asks, coming up beside Draco. "It's been a long time since I've said hello to them."

Draco grins to himself. He won't say a word to Harry, but he knows another creature that lives in these woods. Creatures that Harry promised he would meet...

"Well, I suppose yuh can," Hagrid says. "We're headin' out now, though, so if yer not ready..."

"No, we're ready," Draco says, jumping back into a standing position. He's grinning the entire way, and he hopes to Merlin that Harry isn't noticing. It will ruin the surprise.

_**OoOoOoO**_

"Do you want to help me feed Biddy?" Luna asks Harry quietly, blinking at him with a small smile.

"Biddy?" Harry asks, cocking an eyebrow.

She motions to a thestral across the way. It's young, but good sized. Probably about a year or so.

Harry's jaw drops. "Luna, is this...is this the thestral that only eats apples?"

She smiles brightly at Harry. "You remembered?"

"Yeah, I guess I did. I don't know how, but I did."

"So do you want to help me feed him?"

Harry nods, smiling warmly down at her. Draco is helping Hagrid hand out meat to the adult thestrals.

"We usually don't have to feed them," Hagrid is saying, "but in the last couple of years there have been some new creatures moving into the forest, so meat for them has dropped in population."

To Harry's surprise, Draco just grins. He's happy about thestral death? That's odd...

Luna suddenly sets a blotchy red and green apple into Harry's hand.

"Funny how it doesn't eat meat," Harry says, pulling out a spell and using his wand to cut the apple in half. "I wonder what sort of defect it has."

"His mother only eats horse meat," Lavender says, pulling out meat that must be from a horse (slight cannibalism, maybe?). "And horses eat apples, so I think it's a gene thing."

Both Biddy and a larger thestral make their way over to Harry and Luna, sniffing happily. The mother takes the horse meat from Luna's hand and nearly eats it whole. Biddy, on the other hand, eats the apple halves gingerly out of Harry's hand.

"He's not a fan of newcomers," Luna says, rubbing between his ears. "I can't wait until he's older, though. He's really strong, so he'll be able to carry the carts with ease."

Harry opens his mouth to reply, but Draco's voice beats him to it: "'Ry, I need to show you something."

Harry sighs, and Luna laughs daintily. "Go to your boyfriend, Harry. He needs you more than I do. In fact, I don't need you at all." She smiles.

"Uh...thanks," Harry says awkwardly, going over to Draco, who's standing alone in the clearing full of thestrals. "What is it?"

"Hagrid said I could show you something," he says, taking Harry's hand. "He says we have to be careful, but I know their habitat so they're not far. Come with me."

Harry blinks at him. "What?"

"The creature that's moving into the forest. I want you to meet them."

Harry purses his lips. "Are you sure it's safe?"

"Safe? Where's that Gryffindor spirit I know's in there somewhere? Come on, we'll be fine."

Draco pulls Harry after him, out of the clearing. Harry steps forward and links his arm in Draco's, following silently beside him.

"One...two..." Draco is whispering, looking around in the trees. Harry doesn't dare look with him. "Five...seven...ten... Oh, 'Ry, they're beautiful! Thirteen...eighteen...twenty-two..."

Harry closes his eyes. Considering that there are spider webs all over the place, he's got a pretty good idea what Draco is looking at. "I don't want to see them," he says. "They're terrifying."

"Oh, shush," Draco says, taking Harry's face in his hands so that Harry opens his eyes. "They're harmless. I've never heard of a story that they harmed a human being. In fact, they've been known to take them in as their own. So suck it up and say hello."

Harry sighs. "Just for you." Bracing himself, he looks up into the trees.

_**OoOoOoO**_

Draco is quite positive that he's never seen Harry look so terrified in his entire life. Harry's green eyes are wide and darting, and his teeth are practically gnawing a hole in his cheek. His hands are tight on Draco's arm, and one of his legs is shaking.

"I think they're beautiful," Draco says, reaching up to plant a kiss on Harry's cheek. The nobijies and zirgs are climbing through and down and up the trees and their trunks, weaving webs and looking down at the two human newcomers.

A brown nobijies with white splots on its fur climbs down on of the trunks beside them, and Harry's grip tightens by two on Draco's arm. Draco is probably losing circulation, but he won't complain. He's just glad Harry isn't passing out. This nobijies has six spider legs to each horse leg, so it's not even two years old yet.

"Hello," Draco says, reaching one of his hands slowly out to the baby zirgs. He holds it a bit away from it in midair so he doesn't scare it. A moment later, the nobijies leans forward so that its forehead is pressed into Draco's palm. Draco scratches between its ear holes, smiling brightly. "You're very pretty." Draco turns to Harry, who still looks terrified.

"Not a chance in hell," Harry says before Draco can say anything. "I don't want it near me."

Draco rolls his eyes. "You're a wimp of a Slytherin. Come on, I know you have some Gryffindor bravery in there. You've used it before. Can't you use it again? They're harmless, I promise."

At Draco's sentence, the biggest zirgs that Draco has _ever_ seen drops to the ground in front of them, _inches_ from Draco's face. Its fur is completely black, and its eyes are a golden yellow. It gives out a throaty growl, and its jaw slowly opens to reveal saliva-dripping fangs. Beside Draco, Harry goes limp before sliding to the ground. Draco doesn't move, though, even though he wants to make sure that Harry is okay. This zirgs is obviously the leader of the herd, and he doesn't look very happy.

Its tongue slips out of its mouth, flickering through the air, either tasting the fear coming off of Draco or the danger that he's hopefully not omitting at all.

"Cinna!" a deep voice booms from somewhere in the trees.

The giant zirgs looks up in the trees, and suddenly something else drops down beside it. It's a girl, looking to be only thirteen years old at the most. She has dark skin, dark brown hair, and onyx eyes. She looks like an Indian, dressed in what looks like deer and bear skin (though Draco didn't know that either of those lived in this forest), not to mention adorned with feathers and grasses. She's not wearing any shoes, but she has grass anklets, bracelets, and a necklace. She has a pack of arrows on her back, a large knife strapped to her calf, and an arrow in the bow that she's holding that's cocked and pointed straight between Draco's eyes.

"Cinna, go to our Ki," the girl says in the same deep voice. She sounds like a bloke, actually, but for such a young kid she's developed pretty intensely. "She needs you."

The zirgs—Cinna?—turns around and climbs swiftly up the trunk of a tree, disappearing into the branches.

Draco doesn't move, focusing intently on the girl.

"Who are you?" she asks darkly.

"Draco Malfoy," he says. "I'm a student at Hogwarts."

Her eyes unnarrow slightly. "Who is he?"

"Harry Potter."

She drops the arrow, an incredulous look on her face. "_He_ is the Boy Who Lived?" She loosens her hold on the bow so that they hang limply away from each other. "And here I thought we were supposed to be _saved_ by the Chosen One."

"He doesn't usually do this," Draco says quietly. "The zirgs and nobijies scared him."

The girl tilts her head at him. "You know what we are?"

Draco blinks at her. "We? You're one of them?"

The girl laughs. "Humans are so stupid. You know hardly anything about us."

"I know quite a bit, actually..." Draco says, frowning. "My family has three of them as pets."

"_Oh_ yes, I know who _you_ are," she says. "You are referring to Pampu, Puckanje, and Leve, I presume?"

Draco purses his lips. "Yeah...that's them..."

She laughs again. "We tried so hard. I am Kageomoi, but you may call be Kage. Come, I have the perfect remedy for your friend."

"It's okay," Draco says, kneeling down beside Harry. "I'm sure I have a better one." Draco pulls out his wand and whispers "_Rennervate_" into Harry's ear.

Harry's eyes snap open like lighting. "They're everywhere," he says frantically. "They're everywhere. They're—"

"Shh," Draco says, putting a finger to Harry's lips. "They're not going to hurt us. We're fine, you big scaredy cat."

Harry blinks around, staring with wide eyes at Kage. "Who's she?"

Kage snorts. "Humans."

Draco rolls her eyes at her. "That's Kageomoi, but she said we could call her Kage. Come on, stand up." Draco helps Harry and himself into a standing position, and Harry leans his weight against Draco. "I always have passed out more than the average person."

"Yes, good times with dementors, I know."

"Come," Kage says. "You need to meet Remedy."

Draco blinks at her. "Remedy is a person?"

Kage blinks back. "You must be a friend of the half-giant. Hagrid. I do not know how the girl puts up with him." She turns around, and in a single, ten-foot leap her hand latches firmly around the neck of a zirgs. The zirgs races up the tree while Kage just hangs there like it's something she's been doing since she was born, which it probably is.

"I don't think I can do that," Harry says, latching tightly onto Draco again.

"Don't worry," Draco says, taking him and slowly leading him to a tree. "We'll climb."

"How?"

"Spells, of course. I happen to know the brother of the permanent sticking charm. It's a half sticking charm, so it's as sticky as the permanent sticking charm until we want to pull it off. If we put it on our hands and shoes we can climb to the top with ease." Draco performs the charms on the four hands and shoes of the two boys, and as soon as he puts his wand away he starts to climb.

"Drake, I don't think this is a very good idea..." Harry says quietly.

"'Ry, I think you have a trusting problem," Draco says, looking down at him.

"And I think you trust too deeply."

"Suit yourself, then." Draco starts to climb again, and he smiles when he hears Harry grumbling as he follows him. When Draco gets to the top of the giant trunk, he automatically turns around and pulls Harry up so he doesn't faint when he sees all of the spider webs.

"Oh my gods," he says. "I don't think I can do this."

"Then don't. You can tell Hagrid I got eaten."

Harry exhales angrily. "I hate you. Where the hell are we going? Hurry up."

"Touchy little human," a voice says, and Kage swings down from above, hanging upside down from the branches. "And you are the one who will save us from the Dark Lord? I hope I live to see the day." She drops down on her feet, and two zirgs appear at her sides. "These are Romanji and Momo. You will ride them instead of climbing because you are slow."

Harry gasps painfully, and Draco soothingly pats his hand. "It's okay, they won't hurt you, you'll be fine."

"Nope, I'm going back," Harry says, closing his eyes tightly. "I'm climbing back down and I'm never coming back into this forest ever again no matter what."

"You have an odd taste in companions," Kage says, looking degradingly at Draco.

"Yes, and your hanging around with a bunch of spider-horse-snake things is completely normal."

She smirks. "More so than you think. Hurry up, now. Remedy is waiting."

She disappears again, and it takes about three minutes for Draco to get Harry onto one of the zirgs (he doesn't know who's named what). Once he's on, Draco swings onto the other and does his best not to laugh at how tightly Harry is holding onto his zirgs, his eyes tightly shut.

"Uh, mush?" Draco says awkwardly.

Draco swears that the two zirgs roll their eyes at each other.

Draco hates to admit it, but he actually has to close his eyes as well as soon as his zirgs starts to clamber through the trees. It's going so fast that the branches and wind are stinging his eyes. He wishes that he could keep them open and see the scenery, but that's not a very good possibility.

When they stop, Draco opens his eyes to see that they're in the middle of a very large clearing, on the ground. There are rope bridges and little cottages all throughout the trees, and there's a single fireplace in the middle of the clearing. Standing beside the fireplace is Cinna, Kage, and who Draco assumes to be Remedy. She's a good sized woman, dressed nearly the exact same as Kage, except she has a necklace of teeth instead of grass. Draco climbs down from his zirgs, and the one that Harry is on waits at least five seconds for Harry to get off as well. But he doesn't move, keeping his arms around its neck and his eyes shut, so it flips around in such a way that Harry falls into the dirt.

"Oh," he says, jumping up. "We're here."

"What else would we have stopped for?" Draco asks, taking his hand. "Midday traffic?"

Harry blushes. "It could happen."

"These are the wizards I spoke of," Kage says to the other woman. "Should we eat them?"

Without a word, Harry crumples to the ground.

"Good gods," Draco says, pushing his fingers through his hair. "You have got to stop doing that."

"Doing what?" Kage asks, blinking at him. "It was a simple question."

"We are not going to eat them, Kageomoi," the woman says. "Albus would not take it lightly, nor his large friend. Was the girl with him?"

"She always is when they go to feed our brothers."

Draco blinks at them. "Brothers? The thestrals?"

"I see what you mean," the woman says to Kage. "Very human." She walks across the clearing until she's in front of Draco. "I am Remedy, wife of our village leader."

Draco looks around. "Is he here?"

"Oh yes, that is him." She points to Cinna, and Draco refrains from commenting. "You are Draco Malfoy, son of the Death Eater?"

Draco averts his eyes. "That's a long story."

"Yes, Pampu and his family have told us all about your story. You are safe with us. Your companion is..." She looks down at the crumpled heap that is Harry. "This is the one that will deliver us from the Dark Lord?"

Draco sighs. "Yeah, uh, he's really not usually like this. Something about the zirgs just...set him off, I guess."

"And we do not set _you_ off?"

There's that we again. What's up with that? "No, I've grown up with your kind. I love you guys."

Remedy gives Draco a degrading look.

"I told you," Kage says. "He says they are pets."

"Yes, pets," Remedy says, turning away from Draco and over to Harry. "Up, child."

Harry's body stands. His eyes stay shut, and his arms stay limp, but he's standing nonetheless.

"What is your name?"

"Harry James Potter," Harry says quietly.

"Louder, boy. I am older than you will ever know."

"Harry James Potter!" Harry yells.

"Good. Awake, I'm sick of your mind."

Harry's eyes snap open, and Draco launches forward to catch him before he falls back over.

"I don't want to be a soup!" he says frantically, gripping Draco's hands tightly.

"Soup?" Remedy says. "No, we eat our meat raw. Do not fret, though. We are not going to consume you."

Harry releases a sigh. "Oh sweet Merlin, thank you."

Remedy walks slowly over to Kage and Cinna, and they begin to talk amongst themselves, but it's not...it's not English.

"Oh boy, I hope not," Harry says, staring at them.

"Pardon?" Draco says, looking up at him.

"What? You didn't hear them?"

"Hear what?"

"They said they want to keep me. I hope they decide against it."

Draco blinks at Harry. "They didn't say that."

"Yes they did."

"No, they're not speaking English."

Harry presses his lips into a hard line. "They're part snake, right?"

"Yeah..."

"Right then. They're speaking Parseltongue. That's why I can understand them and you can't."

"Ohh..." Draco looks away from Harry and back at the three conversing creatures. Cinna definitely isn't human, and with both Kage and Remedy going on about humans...well, they must not be either. "How lovely."

_**OoOoOoO**_

_When Remedy, Kage, and Cinna first began talking..._

"We might have to keep him here," Remedy says darkly.

"The Potter boy?" Cinna says, one eye swiveling over to stare at Harry. It takes a lot in Harry not to just pass out again.

"Oh boy, I hope not," Harry says to Draco.

"Pardon?" Draco says.

"What? You didn't hear them?"

"Hear what?"

"They said they want to keep me. I hope they decide against it."

"They didn't say that."

"Yes they did."

"No, they're not speaking English."

Harry presses his lips into a hard line. "They're part snake, right?"

"Yeah..."

"Right then. They're speaking Parseltongue. That's why I can understand them and you can't."

"Ohh... How lovely."

Remedy nods. "Yes, the Potter child. He might be able to help if we tell him."

"I doubt it," Kage says. "Wizard blood does nothing."

"But he _is_ the Boy Who Lived," Cinna says. "He has the Dark Lord branded into him; his blood is different."

"Well, if you put it that way..." Kage says. "Will he help us? He is of the House of Salazar Slytherin."

"I believe he will help us," Remedy says. "He is trying to stop the Dark Lord, not aid him."

"He will tell his companion..." Cinna growls, a second eye swiveling to Draco. "We cannot risk another knowing about us. There are too many as it is."

"Cinna, darling," Remedy says, setting a hand on Cinna's neck. "There are only so many real humans on the planet, and then billions more creatures that are not even slightly human. Out of all the billions of creatures on this planet, no more than fifty know about us. You know we keep tabs on them. I believe that these younglings are trustworthy; the Malfoy boy adores our kind, and Albus has now informed the Chosen One about the horcruxes. That is a very large burden to take on. I believe that if he is going to help us, he is ready."

Kage looks at Harry with a questionable look, and Cinna starts to look at Harry with three eyes.

"You may only tell the Potter boy. I hope you know what you are doing, Remedy," Cinna says, pulling all three eyes away from Harry and Draco to look at Remedy. "And I hope that he can help us."

"I trust that he will." Remedy presses a kiss to Cinna's fur, and the giant zirgs turns around and clambers swiftly into the nearest tree, disappearing into one of the huts.

"I will look after the Malfoy boy," Kage says, looking over at Draco.

Remedy nods, and she turns around to fully face Harry. The two females walk over to them, and in just plain English Kage says, "Come with me. There are things you need to...see."

Draco looks over at Harry, who nods. With a sigh, Draco follows after Kage as she climbs swiftly up one of the trees without any sticking charms.

"You are a Parselmouth," Remedy says, looking down at Harry. "A gift given to you on accident by the Dark Lord."

Harry narrows his eyes. "This is a gift?" He jabs a finger at his scar. "This is not a gift. People die because of this. People—"

"Oh, do shut up," a voice says behind Harry.

He whirls around to see a regular sized zirgs with rusty orange fur and onyx eyes. He's sure he's going to faint at how close he is, but he doesn't even feel the need to.

"You will not faint by the site of us any longer," Remedy says, stepping up beside him. "I have cured your body of the fear you have of us. You may still think you are frightened by us, but you are really not. This is Zou, our oldest member of the herd. He will help me explain to you what must be explained."

"Hi," Harry says, nodding at the zirgs. "I'm Har—"

"Harry Potter, yes, I know. You only just screamed it throughout the entire forest. Come, come, we don't have all day." He turns around and begins climbing up the nearest trunk.

Remedy whistles, and almost instantly the same zirgs that brought Harry and Draco to this clearing are in front of them.

"Romanji, darling, could you please put up with him one more time?" Remedy asks.

"If I must," Romanji says, rolling all eight of his eyes.

Harry climbs onto the zirgs, who instantly begins climbing the tree. When he's about halfway up the towering trunk, the other zirgs (Momo, is it?) speeds by with Remedy holding onto its neck in the same way that Kage had done earlier.

They climb into a different hut than Cinna had, and with a bow from each, Romanji and Momo leave the hut to Harry, Remedy, and Zou.

"We'll cut right to the chase, hmm?" Zou says. "You may come in now, Albus."

"Albus?" Harry asks. "You mean—"

"Dumbledore?" a new voice says.

Harry turns towards a corner in the back of the room. There's nothing there at first, but suddenly there's a misty shimmer, and what's revealed is Hogwarts' very own Headmaster.

"Professor?" Harry asks, blinking at him. "Is that you?"

"It is indeed, Harry," Dumbledore says, smiling brightly at him. "I believe you have many questions, but I would like it if you asked none until we are finished speaking. Can you do that?"

Harry nods. He's used to keeping his questions to himself until the end.

"Good. Please take a seat." With a wave of his wand, Dumbledore conjures up a chair behind Harry, who sits down instantly. "Zou, if you please, we will begin."

Zou dips his head to Dumbledore, and then turns to Harry. It's nearly impossible for Harry to explain, but Zou's body begins to change. His features both expand and melt away at the same time, and then he starts to shrink. He gets shorter, and thinner, and he starts to stretch up on his hind legs. And eventually the spidery parts of his legs are together like normal, and his two back legs are his only legs, and his two front legs are arms. His face is no longer long, and he has two eyes, and real ears, and a nose, and—

"You're human," Harry says, looking the old man over. "You even have built in clothes." Zou is dressed in a male version of Kage's and Remedy's outfit, though he has no seeable weapons on him at all. "How is that...possible?"

Zou shakes his head. "The only humans in this room are you and Albus. Remedy, Kageomoi, and I are all what you call zirgs and nobijies—but we call ourselves Bloodsquibs. Your name is far more descriptive of us, but because we know exactly what we are, we do not need to call ourselves something that describes us. Bloodsquibs do not actually exist; if a Squib is born and he has a blood disease, it is referred to separately. We call ourselves Bloodsquibs, though, because we are referring to the defect that we have in our blood that is slowly killing off our species. It is a disease that has only surfaced in the last two years, since the Dark Lord returned, but it is spreading far quicker than we like.

"We need your help to stop this disease so that our species may survive. We are not sure if it will work, but we believe that if we take some of your blood and inject it into ourselves it will stop it. We've tried blood from thousands of others, and so far you are our best bet. We will only take a small sample, enough to be injected into our sickest member as of now. If it works, we can use her blood to inject into the others, and as many of us that have the blood, we can take it and inject it into even more of us around the world.

"This disease only affects us, so if you do not help it will only kill us and no other species, not even any other horse species, such as the thestrals. If you do help, though, we are prepared to fight on your side of the war as soon as this war comes, because we know it will. We will give to you—"

"The war is enough," Harry says, holding his hand up. "I don't need any sacrifices or gifts or anything. I would be glad to help you." Harry may be of the House of Salazar Slytherin, but he is indeed working against Voldemort; he might as well get all of the help he can get.

Zou and Remedy let out gigantic sighs of relief, and Dumbledore smiles brightly at Harry, his eyes sparkling in the darkness of the hut.

"But, uh, how long will it take?" Harry asks quietly.

"Oh, I don't know," Zou says, shrugging. "Five minutes, tops."

"Good," Harry says, smiling. "I miss Draco."

Remedy blinks at him. "It has not even been ten minutes since you've seen him."

Harry blushes, but before he can actually speak, Dumbledore beats him to it: "I believe you know what love feels like, Remedy?"

Remedy smiles. "Ah, so that's what it is. I should have guessed. Come now, Harry Potter. There is always work to be done."

_**XxX**_

"And you really can't tell me anything?" Draco asks for the third time, his arms tight around Harry's waist and his head leaning against Harry's chest.

"I can't, Drake," Harry says, combing his fingers through Draco's perfect hair. "Even Dumbledore was there. Even if I had the audacity to break a promise to any of the zirgs, I couldn't break one to Dumbledore."

Draco sighs. "That's okay, I have my own secret."

Harry stills his hand. "You do?"

"Mmhmm. McGonagall made me promise. I can't tell you, of course."

"You are evil."

"Says the Slytherin."

"Says the Gryffindor."

Draco leans back and looks up at Harry, a warm smile on his face. They're sitting next to the fire in the middle of the clearing, and they've been there for a few hours now, just getting to know all of the zirgs and nobijies. They're really waiting to see if Harry's blood works, but Draco thinks that Dumbledore is just giving them some time off after all the crap they've been through this year. Of course, it'd be a little late for that, but time off is nice no matter when it happens.

"Dray! Dray!" a little voice says, and a small boy with long, dark brown hair and jade green eyes jumps out from behind the fireplace. He's in nothing but a furry loincloth. The clothes would appall Harry, except for the fact that he learned while having his blood drawn that zirgs don't feel hot or warm temperatures. They just feel plain old content.

"Heyuh, Taizac," Draco says, smiling brightly at the boy. Harry can't tell him, but Taizac happens to be the nobijies that Draco first pet when they came into the zirgs territory. "Got anymore of those blueberry things?"

"Oceanberries?" Taizac says, tilting his head. "Mmhmm, I has some here." He runs away, climbing up the nearest tree like a monkey. A few moments later, he comes back down with a handful of the light blue berries. "Here." He hands them to Draco, who takes them graciously.

"Thanks, Tai," Draco says. "These are really good."

Taizac nods with a large smile on his face, and then runs off to play with some of the other nobijies that have taken their human form. Draco's under the impression that they were all hiding from he and Harry when they first came. He'd probably be a bit suspicious except for the fact that there are a large amount of nobijies and zirgs running about as well.

A long while later, Harry and Draco have ended up lying on their backs to look up at the stars in the sky. Harry knows they've been there _forever_, then, because it was only lunchtime when they came out here. He hopes that Hagrid and Luna aren't worried... Dumbledore's fine, though, so they're probably not.

And speaking of Dumbledore...

"Harry, I'd like you to meet someone," the Headmaster says, suddenly towering above the two boys. "You've saved her life."

Harry leaps into a standing position. "It worked?" he whispers to Dumbledore happily.

Dumbledore smiles and nods, and then he turns his arms at such an angle that Harry can see that he's holding someone. It's a little girl, not even at the age of one. She has golden locks and eyes the colour of the oceanberries, and here toothless smile is shining up at Harry. She giggles like a true baby girl, and Harry can't help but smile.

"This is Vixen," Dumbledore whispers.

"I saved her?" Harry asks quietly.

Dumbledore nods.

"Why did it take so long?"

"She's not the first," the Headmaster whispers back. "She's the ninth. We wanted to make sure it worked on more than just one."

"Wow. You took that much?"

Dumbledore nods.

"It's a good thing I can't hear your whispers from way down here," Draco says, standing up beside them. "Or this secret would be really stup—oh, she's so _cute_!" He leans forward to look at Vixen, and she giggles again. Draco practically melts. "Sweet Merlin, I wish I could have kids."

"There's always adoption," Harry says, putting his arm around his blonds waste.

"Which we _will_ be doing, by the way."

"It's time we go now, Harry," Dumbledore says. "Dinner will be starting as soon as we get back to the castle if we leave presently."

Draco sighs, and Harry nods at the Headmaster.

The three wizards say their goodbyes to the zirgs and nobijies, and Draco is especially devastated that they have to go.

_He really does adore them_, Harry thinks as Draco waves to everyone as they walk away. _That's insane._

When they're long away from the zirgs' clearing, Harry looks up at Dumbledore on his left. "Where you afraid that I wouldn't help them, sir?" Harry asks him quietly.

"It was a thought," Dumbledore replies even quieter.

"But why, professor? Am I that selfish?"

"Not at all, Harry. Not for a Slytherin. But you are bitter."

Harry cocks an eyebrow. "What do you mean by bitter, sir?"

Instead of answering, Dumbledore begins to whistle his version of the Hogwarts theme song.

* * *

References: 1. _She nods. "Six long years we waited, and there is was, screaming."  
_The real line is from Disney's _Treasure Planet_. Originally it's: Dilbert: "All my _life_ I've been waiting for this moment, and here it is, _screaming_!"

2. Kageomoi isn't a real word. Its two Japanese words I put together. _Kage_ is "shadow", and _omoi_ is "heart". So her name is Shadowheart!  
3. _Ki _is Japanese for "tree". (When Kage tells Cinna to go back to his Ki and that "she needs him", the she that she's referring to is actually Remedy. Just to clear that up.)  
4. _Romanji_ is Japanese for "promise".  
5. _Momo_ is Japanese for "peach" (and it's also the nickname that I use for my second best friend :P)  
6. _Zou_ is Japanese for "elephant".  
7. The name _Taizac_ isn't even a name. I saw it on the side of a pen in my counselor's office a few years ago. I pronounce it tie-zack :)  
8. I got the word "Bloodsquib" from a Drarry fic I read. It's the title and it means something completely different; I just liked the word so I stole it. I have that story too, if you want it. I quite enjoyed it :)  
9. I definitely got the name "Cinna" from _The Hunger Games_. Thank you for a wonderful fandom to join, Susan Collins!

/

A/N: I've mentioned Draco's "number one secret" before, right? Well, I know I have, even if you've forgotten. Don't worry, we'll all find out what it is eventually. Just not yet XD

Also, the chapter title. "Cloaking the Dagger and Hushing the Secrets". If you remember the A/N's for "Hush-Hush the Secrets with Your Little Cloak-And-Dagger", then this does not need to be explained, and good for you. If you've forgotten, you'll have to go back and read it. It's chapter seven! :)


	24. Year 6, Part XIV

**Year Six, Part XIV: And So It Begins**

Beginning chapter A/N's: 1. Draco's birthday is actually June 5th, but I've taken the liberty of changing it to _April_ 5th for the fic.

* * *

All of the Death Eater's are named in this chapter, but I want to make it clear that I've taken out like lots of them so it's easier for me to write. So Wilkes is out, Antonin Dolohov, Stan Shumpike never becomes a Death Eater, and just anybody else who's not mentioned in the later parts of this chapter. Just to make sure you don't freak out that a bunch of them aren't there!

Also this chapter is pretty intense because it's the last chapter of year six and tons of stuff still has to happen. So be prepaaaaaared (please read that in the same voice that Scar sings it).

_One month later, on the 1st of April..._

"It's going to be a great match today," Fred says from beside Draco. He and George are visiting again for two reasons: its April Fool's day and they haven't said hello to Filch yet, and it's their Birthday. Funny how that works.

And speaking of birthdays…nobody knows it but Lavender, but Draco's birthday is in three days, on the fifth. She promised not to tell anybody about it, and she promised that she wouldn't give him any presents. Draco doesn't want his birthday to be a big thing like it is every other year. Harry hasn't said anything about it, so Draco is sure that he doesn't know when his birthday will be. He's not sure if he approves of the fact that his boyfriend doesn't know his birthday, but he's glad right now. It works out perfectly, in all honesty.

"Why?" Draco asks, staring intently at the opening of the Slytherin locker room, waiting for Harry to emerge.

"Besides the obvious," George says on Fred's other side, "it's a Slytherin versus Gryffindor game, and those are the best."

"I beg to differ," Lavender says on Draco's other side. "Considering the fact that Harry always catches the Snitch, there's never any real suspense because we all know he'll win it."

"Well if you put it that way," Neville says on Lavender's other side, "then all of the games are boring. At least these matches are a close call. Hufflepuff never gets any points, and Ravenclaw only gets half as many points.

"Actually," Silvi says from the bench behind them, "the Ravenclaw/Gryffindor games are relatively close."

"For the most part," Blaise says beside her. "Thanks to Harry, though, Slytherin's have won for more years than any other House ever has."

"Oh, shut up," Fred says, glaring back at him. "This is my favorite holiday, and I will happily make you rue it."

Blaise cocks an eyebrow. "Right, I'll be sure to check under the bed before I go to sleep tonight."

As Blaise turns back around, Draco leans in so that his mouth is next to Fred's ear: "He's going to die, isn't he?"

Fred is grinning when Draco pulls away. "_Oh_ yeah."

_**XxX**_

When the match is over, Slytherin has beaten Gryffindor by only thirty points.

"Alright, so I was wrong," Lavender says, standing up and stretching as everyone cheers. "These matches _are_ pretty exciting."

Harry, still with the Snitch, flies up to Draco in the stands.

"Did you see my brilliant flip I had to do so I wouldn't run into the stands across from you?" he asks, settings his feet on the edge of the box but still floating.

Draco nods, a bright smile on his face. "_Very_ brilliant. I would have crashed right into it."

Harry nods. "One reason you don't play Quidditch." He turns around. "Hop on, Snape said he wants to talk to you."

Draco tilts his head in confusion as he climbs onto the back of Harry's Nimbus-whatever. He's always getting the next best version. "When did you even talk to him?"

"He came into the locker room before the match started. He didn't want to interrupt your happiness up here or something. I don't know." Harry flies swiftly across the pitch to where Professor Snape stands beside the Slytherin locker rooms.

"Halloo, professor," Draco says, climbing off from behind Harry. "You needed to speak with me?"

Draco swears Snape looks the darkest he's looked since he's met him, and that was a _long_ time ago.

"Something's come up, Draco," he says. Draco expected the voice to be dark and foreboding, but it's really quite light. Even happy. Maybe he's just trying to hard to make everybody think he can't stand the two queers. "I need you to come with me to my office."

Draco presses his lips into a hard line. "Do I have to leave again?"

"No, far from it. Would you like to bring Harry?"

Draco nods, and Harry automatically climbs off of his broom and goes over to Draco, taking his hand.

The three wizards walk at no leisurely pace up to the castle, into the castle, and through the castle. Snape stops them at the door to his office, though.

"Draco, you go in first. And go slow. Movement is staring to spook him a bit. Harry, come in right behind me. Am I understood?"

Draco and Harry nod together. Draco doesn't know how Harry's feeling, but he knows he himself is feeling pretty damn confused.

With his wand, Snape opens the door, and Draco slowly walks inside. He's been in Snape's office plenty of times, and it looks the same as always. There aer too many bottles of Veritaserum, and everything else is labeled with slips of paper way too scientific for anybody's health. There's a boiling cauldron in the corner, and a portrait on the wall of—

Draco stops. That's not a portrait.

"Draco," he says. His voice is scratchy, and his hair is long and unkempt. There are dark circles underneath his eyes, and his shirt is caked with dirt and old blood.

Draco forces himself across the room to the man, words coming out of his mouth almost painfully: "_Father_."

_**OoOoOoO**_

It kills Harry to walk so slowly in after Snape, because the last he saw of Draco before he disappeared from view from outside of the door was he bursting into tears—and Harry couldn't tell from here if they were pained or happy. The door to the office shuts and locks on its own after Harry is inside.

When he sees what it is that made Draco cry, though, he does know that they're happy tears, but he sort of just wishes he stayed outside.

"I honestly didn't know if I would ever see you again," Lucius says. It's weird, but Harry thinks he's crying, too. Is he even capable of crying?

"That makes two of us," Draco says, his face pressed hard into his dads shoulder.

They talk for a lot longer, their arms so tight around each other Harry's sure he'd be sore by now. Snape stands beside him silently, and while Harry feels extremely awkward, Snape seems right at home.

A million years later, Draco and his dad pull apart.

And that's when Lucius sees Harry.

Harry presses himself against the back wall, bracing himself for some sort of attack... But Lucius just stares at him.

"Harry Potter," he says quietly, a half smile on his face. "I'm supposed to kill you. I'm not going to, though. That would be rude."

Harry blinks at him. Has he lost his mind? Well, the man _does_ look like shit... Who knows?

"I see Azkaban hasn't left you yet," Draco says, pulling out his wand. "Do you want to see my elephant again?"

Lucius smiles at his son. "Yes."

Draco closes his eyes, and a smile spreads across his face. "_Expecto Patronum_!" A shimmering white/blue swirls out of the tip of Draco's wand, and after a moment it forms into an elephant calf. The calf dances around the two Malfoy's in such a way that only a Patronus elephant can dance. It's beautiful.

"He's just as beautiful as I remember him being," Lucius says absentmindedly, smiling down at the calf as he speaks Harry's thoughts. Except the part about remembering; just that it's beautiful.

"He hasn't been treating you very good at all, has he, father?" Draco asks quietly.

"Who? The Dark Lord? What do you expect, a cup of hot tea and a day off when I'm feeling a bit off course? No, just because it's April first does not mean that I'm up for any jokes. And speaking of which..." He looks up at Snape. "Do you have any more of that tea?"

"Plenty," Snape says, walking over to his desk. There's an empty teacup on it, and he uses a silent refilling charm on it. Once it's filled, he floats it over the Lucius, who takes it and drinks it heartily.

"Thank you, Severus," he says. The teacup is shaking in his hands. "If I wasn't in love with my wife—"

"How did you get here, father?" Draco asks, interrupting whatever awkward thing he was going to say.

"I wish I could tell you," he says, looking at Draco with the true look of a father who loves his son. "But it's a very big secret. Just...be in your common room the entirety of the date of May ninth, alright?"

Draco tilts his head in confusion. "But why?"

Lucius sighs, finishes his tea, and then sighs again. "I can't tell you that either."

Draco's sighs too as he refills the teacup. "Are you here on business, then?"

Lucius shakes his head no. "I'm not supposed to be here. In fact, the Dark Lord is supposed to think that I'm dead. Did it work, Severus? Did it—"

"I already told you that it did, Lucius. You will have to take on the same role as Barty Crouch Jr. with Polyjuice potion, though, if you wish to survive."

"But who's role do I take?"

Snape sighs his dignified sigh. "I have no idea."

Lucius sighs, too. "Anyway, Thane helped as well. I hope he doesn't get in trouble for it."

"Who's Thane?" Harry whisper to Snape.

"Vincent Crabbe's father," Snape says back.

Draco and his father talk some more, and Harry's about to excuse himself so they can talk about more private things that they obviously want to talk about, but Lucius stops him: "Come here, Potter."

Harry blinks at him skeptically, but when he sees Draco's face he walks over without any more hesitation.

"I have a job for you, Harry Potter," Lucius says, staring Harry dead in the eyes.

"Yes...?" Harry says awkwardly.

"Keep him safe," the Death Eater says. "On May ninth, keep him in his common room the entire day. Tell all of your friends to stay in their common rooms. _Keep my son safe_. Do you understand me?"

Harry forces himself to nod. "Yeah, I got it. Keep Draco safe. May ninth, don't go anywhere."

And then the oddest thing happens. Lucius leans forward and wraps his arms around Harry's shoulders. Lucius hugs Harry.

Harry can't force himself to hug the man back, but when Lucius pulls away and is smiling Harry quick smiles half back.

"I trust you, Harry Potter," he says, stepping away from him. "I would really rather not lose that trust."

Harry resists the urge to mention a million other things that would probably get him punched in the face by all three of the others in the room.

"Right," he says. "Got it."

Snape tells him to leave, then, and Harry takes the command with gusto.

_**OoOoOoO**_

_Two days later..._

"How did you do on your apparation test?" Harry asks Draco on the way to Defense against the Dark Arts. Nobody has said anything about his birthday being tomorrow yet, and he's thrilled that this is actually going to work. Sure, whatever Harry gave him would be great because it would most likely be birthday-sex, but he'd rather just suggest that they meet up in the Room of Requirement for the reason of nothing other than their dating.

Draco groans at Harry's question. The past few months, all of the sixth years have been practicing to apparate. He and Harry aren't old enough to take the real test, but everyone else not old enough had a little "fake test" just for kicks.

"I did alright," Draco mutters. "I left behind a shoe, my entire cloak, and the emerald ring you gave me, but my body stayed intact. Either way, Slughorn said I wouldn't have gotten the _best_ score ever… Anyway, how did you do?"

Harry shrugs. "Okay, I guess."

"You did it perfect, _didn't_ you…"

Harry grins sheepishly. "Yeah."

"Well, at least we have an emergency getaway."

"Except for the fact that you can't apparate inside the school…"

Draco groans. "I'm tryin' here, 'Ry. I really am."

_**XxX**_

_One month and two days later, on May 7th_

_Draco,  
Would you be so kind as to visit me in my office after lunch today? I have a few things I must discuss with you, including your most recent...visitor. Don't be alarmed, I knew about it before even you did.  
I look forward to most of our conversation.  
Sincerely, Albus Dumbledore  
P.S. I would prefer it if you came alone.  
P.P.S. The gargoyles enjoy Fizzy Lifting drinks._

_**XxX**_

Just as Draco is walking into Dumbledore's office, Snape is walking out.

"Afternoon, professor," Draco says cheerily.

Snape just stares at him as he passes, his eyes sad and...wet.

Draco grabs the edge of his billowing robes before he gets out of reach.

"Snape, what's wrong?" he asks quietly.

Snape presses his lips into a hard line as he unhooks Draco's fingers from him. "You'll find out soon enough, Draco. Don't ask me to repeat it."

Draco frowns. "But you'll be okay, won't you?"

He sighs. "You and your mother will be all I have soon, Draco. Don't ever give anybody up. Not Miss Brown, not any of your Weasley's, and especially not Harry. Love is magnificent."

And then he's gone, disappearing down the spiral staircase.

Draco purses his lips, turning around and going into Dumbledore's office.

"Snape is right," the Headmaster says quietly, staring out of a window. "Love is indeed magnificent." He turns around, his eyes sad, but not as sad as Snape's "How are you, Draco?"

"I'm not sure," he replies, sitting down in the closest chair. "Your note was off-putting, and Snape's tears didn't help. I'll decide after you tell me why I'm here."

Dumbledore smiles sadly, and he takes a seat behind his desk. "There is not much time left, Draco," he says quietly. "Not for anyone..."

As Dumbledore continues to speak, Draco knows exactly how he's going to feel when this is over.

Broken. Lost. And his eyes will be like Snape's.

_**XxX**_

_Two days later, May 9th, while Harry has been called away to speak with Dumbledore…_

"Hey, Draco," a voice says behind Draco. Draco turns around from his lonesome walk through the castle to see Colin Creevey making his way towards him.

"Hey, Colin," Draco says. "What's up?"

"We have a problem," he says, chewing on his bottom lip. "In the owelry."

Draco starts walking that way instantly. Colin follows him, looking more and more frightened as he goes. When they get to the bottom of the stairs, Colin doesn't follow him up.

"Are you coming?" Draco asks.

He shakes his head. "I can't."

"Whatever." Draco walks into the room without looking around first, and then he nearly trips over his own feet.

River is lying on the ground, his feathers torn at places and his blood covering his chest. And the blood is fresh.

"River!" Draco runs across the room, but he only gets halfway. He's thrown to the side of the room, and then hung there, upside down, by his ankle.

"Funny how Gryffindor you are, little Dray," says a high-pitched, female voice. Draco knows that voice. He grew up with it.

"Bella!" he yells, pushing his robes out of his face. "Let me down!"

Draco's Aunt Bellatrix appears in front of him, squatting down to his level. "Whatever for?"

"Bella!"

She grins and stands up. "No." She walks over to River and, grinning evilly at Draco, presses down on him with her foot.

River lets out a soft, painful _hoo_...

He's still _alive__?_

"Stop it!" Draco all but screams. "Stop it, you're hurting him!"

Bellatrix giggles, but releases her foot. "You love your little owl, don't you, Dray?"

"Of course I do, you evil witch! Leave him alone!"

"Lucy gave him to you, didn't he?" If the situation was different, Draco would have laughed. His father hated that nickname. "Do you love him more than Lucy?"

"No!" Draco says instantly. "Why in Merlin's name would I?"

She grins (Bella doesn't smile, she only grins). "No reason." She points her want at River, and before Draco can scream at her to leave him alone, she yells the Homorphus Charm.

River grows. And then the strangest thing happens... River is gone, and there lays Draco's father, barely breathing and soaked in blood. He's too terrified for his father's life to care that River's actually been his father in an Animagus form all this time.

"Father!" he yells. "Bella, _no_!"

She grins again. "I had to though, little Dray. Master told me too. Now..." she squats back in front of Draco. "Be a good little Dray and tell Aunty Bella which owl is Harry's, hmm?"

Draco shakes his head no.

Bella stands up and points her want at his father. "Tell me or he dies."

Draco looks at the other owls and points to the first one he sees. It's black, with eyes a royal blue colour. It flaps forward, and in mid hop it swirls into a tight circle. Moments later, it's no longer an owl, but Alecto Carrow.

"Guess again," she says with an evil smile.

As Draco stares incredulous at her (out of all the owls, he had to choose _her_?), he notices four other black owls swooping down from perches. Each of them has different coloured eyes, but none of them stay owls for long. The one with grass green eyes turns into Thane Crabbe, the one with black turns to Amycus Carrow, navy blue turns to Andrew Yaxley, and gray eyes turn to Andrew's wife Jillian.

And then there's a fifth owl, larger and greater than all of the others, eyes the colour of fresh blood. It lands on the floor of the owelry, and a moment later in its place is the Dark Lord himself. Draco's seen him plenty of times in the last two summers. Seeing him now doesn't faze him near as much as it should.

"You look so pretty upside down, Draco," Alecto says, completely making fun of him.

Draco rolls his eyes and looks at Voldemort directly. "Where's Peter? He's always with you."

At his words, a rat with black eyes scuttles across the floorboards, and then there's Peter.

"Wow," Draco says, giving a condescending smile. "Two more people and the party'd all be here." His mother doesn't even have the Mark, but they all still consider her as one of them. Where Snape is, though, Draco doesn't know.

"Cissa ran away," Amycus growls. "Coward."

"I'd take coward over insane fruitcake any day."

"That's enough, Draco," Voldemort says in a low voice. It would be beautiful on anybody else. "Bella, if you please."

Draco forces himself not to laugh at Voldemort's use of Bella's affectionate name.

Draco's ankle is suddenly released from the air, but before he hits the ground he's caught by Voldemort's wand, flipped right side up, and set lightly on his feet.

"Thanks," Draco grumbles, pushing his robes down to their supposed-to-be look. "Where's Snape?"

"Waiting for you," Thane says quietly. He, Andrew, and Snape are the only ones Draco still gets along with (and he still doesn't call Snape by his first name, thanks to his being Draco's professor more often than not). Andrew's wife, on the other hand...it's not that they don't get along, it's that she's the most boring piece of work Draco has ever met in his life. She's an obvious _gray_ in the Glimmer Bag section.

"Snape tells me he's given you a job, Draco," Voldemort says, staring darkly at him. "Would you be so kind as to repeat it for me?"

Draco blinks at him. Snape never—ohh... Could Snape...could he be faking it? No...

"I'm supposed to disarm Dumbledore so he can kill him for you," Draco says. That's the plan that Dumbledore told him...but he didn't even say Snape's name. Draco just hopes... If that's not it he's in trouble.

"Very good." (_Thank Merlin_, Draco thinks.) "You will do that, of course?"

Draco nods. "Of course."

He gives an evil smile, and then turns to his Death Eater's. "We rise tonight. Go now. You know what it is you must do."

All of the Death Eater's but Bella and Draco's father morph back into owls, and they each fly out of different places of the owelry.

Draco turns back to Voldemort. "Isn't it kind of boring all having the same Animagus form?"

Bella giggles. "You can have more than one Animagus form, little Dray. Lucy has four."

Oh.

"Tell me, Draco," Voldemort says, turning towards the coarse-breathing, blood-soaked body that is Draco's father. "Do you know the rest of the nights plan?"

"No," Draco says. "Snape doesn't tell me much." Draco hopes he can get through this without running to help his father, ensuring his death. He's surprised how immune to Voldemort's presence he is, though. The last time Draco really heard about him, he was looking for him to brand him with the Mark. Whatever reason he stopped looking for Draco, Draco doesn't know. He'd be an excellent Death Eater, really, especially hiding out in _Gryffindor_ tower. Of course, he's _beyond_ thrilled that he didn't have to become one.

"Listen up then, little Dray," Bella says with a giggle.

"Your father cannot survive Bella's curse, Draco."

Draco isn't sure if he should cry or try not to laugh again.

He cries, and while Bella actually looks oddly sympathetic, Voldemort looks annoyed.

"Why not?" Draco asks in a scratchy-like sob. "You can do anything!" No, he's not a suck-up. He's seen Voldemort do everything; he assumes he knows every spell in history, including the ones that don't exist.

"This was his own choice; his own punishment. It was him or Narcissa, and he chose to give his wife back her life."

Draco blinks at him through tears. _Back_ her life? "You're letting her go?"

"Of course not. I just won't kill her like I planned to."

Draco feels himself pale. "But you won't now, will you?"

Voldemort shakes his head no. "I keep my promises to my favorite Death Eater's. Lucius was one of them. Of course, once Snape kills him, it will be difficult for him to fill that place. Maybe it will be...your job."

Draco's skin goes cold. Even his tears stop. But he ignores Voldemort's last sentence. "Snape is going to kill him?"

"Yes. I wouldn't make my favorite Death Eater kill her own relative. Besides, Snape volunteered."

Draco starts crying again. Snape couldn't do that...he and Draco's father are nearly best friends. Maybe there's a plan. Of course there's a plan! It's Snape, there's always a plan...

"Don't cry, little Dray," Bella says, spinning over to Draco. "We have to win, you know. It will help us win. Everything we do is to help us win." Only Draco notices Voldemort's face as Bella wraps her arms tightly around Draco's shoulders. It's filled with lies. Draco automatically wraps his arms around Bella; he's disliked her since he was seven years old, when he saw her kill somebody for the first time. But she's family, and considering that it's her or Voldemort...well, he wouldn't choose the latter in a million years.

He wishes he could talk to Bella about things. He wishes he could tell her that he's not even on the same side as her, and that he misses her sister, and his own father most of all.

"I'm not crying," he says, wiping his tears on Bella's dress. It reminds him of before he was seven. He didn't exactly cry, but Bella would hold him whenever he was upset about anything at all. He refused to ever admit he was upset, though. He's always been stubborn.

"Of course you're not," she says, holding him away from her to do her best imitation of a smile. "Now stop not doing it or I'll _crucio_ you."

Draco actually manages to pull a corner of his mouth up. Draco was the closest thing Bella'd ever had to a child. If it wasn't for his mother, she probably would have gone through with her threats, too.

"Yes Aunty Bella,' Draco says, stepping away from her. He turns back to Voldemort, who's just staring down at Draco's father again.

"Can I go now?" Draco asks him quietly.

He looks up, his eyes filled with nothing but blood. "You have learned to apparate?"

Draco nods.

"Alecto took the liberty of _obliviating_ young Creevey's mind of everything, and she sent him back to Gryffindor tower. If you're wondering." (_Pardon?_ Draco thinks. _If I'm_ wondering?) "Snape is waiting for you."

And then he's gone, disappearing in a cloud of black smoke. Bella grins and waves goodbye before following.

Draco is instantly at his father's side, using an old spell to stitch his deep, wide gash back together as best as he can.

"Rennervate," he whispers.

His father's eyes flitter open. "Hi," he says in a pained whisper.

"Azkaban changed you, father," Draco whispers, putting a hand to the top of his fathers head.

"No, the Dark Lord changed me. This was normal, as a boy. But now I've grown. No joining evil masterminds on your own accord, son, do you understand me?"

Draco smiles, his tears spilling over again. His father's actually joking, even here. "I love you. Mother loves you. Even Bella loves you, somewhere down there."

His father smiles as well. "I love you too, Draco. And your mother. More than the world. Bellatrix, too, even though she's the one who put this stupid curse on me."

Draco's smile fades. "How long do you have? I mean, if Snape doesn't kill you first..."

"Forever."

"Pardon?"

"You heard me. This is a special curse. Bella created all on her own. It has the same effect of Severus's _sectumsempra_ in one place, causing both blood and pain and weakness...but it won't kill you. It doesn't go away, either. It's better to just die once it hits you. Learn it, and then never get on her bad side, do you understand me?"

Draco nods. "Of course I do."

He sighs, closing his eyes. "Speaking of the fact that it's better to die... Severus is waiting for you."

"Were you awake the entire time?"

"No, I just know the plan. The Dark Lord is the classic villain. He enjoys telling his plans to people before he destroys them. Certain people, at least."

Draco sighs as well. "Are you ready?"

"Always."

Draco and his father appear in the middle of the astronomy tower. Snape is standing on the edge, looking out over the expanse of black night. There isn't a cloud in the sky, but there's no moon or visible stars, either.

He turns around, his long, black, stringy hair blowing in the wind like any hair would.

"You're here," he says. "Good. We don't have much time."

He walks over to them, and kneels down beside Draco's father. "I'm sorry, Lucius," he says, using his wand to do a list of silent spells while he points it at his the sort-of-almost dead mans chest. "They both told me it was part of the plan."

"Both?" Draco asks. "What?"

"I understand, Severus," Lucius says, ignoring Draco. "Better you than any other."

Snape nods stiffly. "I know."

A moment later, Snape stands up, holding on to Draco's shoulder so the Gryffindor stands with him. "You must hide," he says.

"Hide where?" Draco asks.

Snape points to a convenient nook in the side of the tower.

So Draco kneels back down to his father, kisses him on the cheek, and says, "I wouldn't have ever traded you, no matter how evil you used to be."

His father smiles. "I wouldn't have traded you either, even though you turned out to be a blasted little Gryffindor."

Draco forces himself to hold back new tears as he wipes away his old ones, and then he stands up and walks over to hide in the nook. "Can you see me?" he asks Snape.

"Only if I'm looking for you," Snape says, using his wand to lift Draco's father into the air. He floats him over to the edge of the tower, and then sets him down beside the wall. Draco doesn't know why, but he's sure it's important. Then he walks over, and right beside Draco's nook he makes himself disappear with a silent spell.

"Don't go out until I tell you to," his voice says in a whisper beside him. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Transparently," he whispers, unable to get his voice any louder.

A moment later, Snape's voice says loudly, "_Morsmordre!"_

A thin stream of green smoke comes out of where his wand would be, and after a long while of staring, Voldemort's Dark Mark is in the sky, looking down upon the tower. It's still the only cloud around.

Draco takes a deep breath and then slowly lets it out. "And so it begins."

_**XxX**_

_Just a little while later..._

Draco's bored to death by the time he sees anything different from his hiding place, even though it hasn't even been ten minutes.

There are two figures soaring to the tower on broomsticks. One Draco can't make out at all because he has a sort of invisibility cloak on, but Draco can see him slightly because part of his broom, hands, and shoes are sticking out—he just wishes he could tell what kind of shoes they were. The one Draco can't make out keeps going until he lands beside the stairs that lead out of the astronomy tower. Is it Harry who he can't make out? It could be... Draco prays that he leaves.

Dumbledore lands in the middle of the tower, and right when Snape whispers to go, Dumbledore points his wand at the still partly invisible figure and yells, "_Petrificus Totalus_!"

So not, it's not Harry. Dumbledore wouldn't ever do that to Harry. Draco doesn't care who it is anymore as long as it's not Harry.

But Draco stepped out right as Dumbledore yelled the spell, so the instant that Dumbledore's lips close, Draco's open: "Expelliarmus!" The Headmasters wand goes flying, landing somewhere beside Draco's father.

Dumbledore grasps the edge of the tower beside him. "Draco," he says, looking at Draco sadly. He's acting, like he said he would. "You don't have to do this."

"But I do have to do it!" Draco says whiningly, probably trying way too hard with his acting. He's never been a good orange. "He told me I had to. He'll kill all of us!"

"Your father is already destined for death, Draco," a voice says behind him, and he whirls around to see Snape walking towards him.

"No!" Draco yells. "I'm going to save him!" He starts to run toward his father, but before he gets there, Snape yells Voldemort's favorite curse.

His father's lips form three last words: "I love you."

But then the flash of green light hits him, and Draco's fathers ragged breathing just...stops. His eyes stare blankly at Draco, a ghost of a smile on his face. A faint light drops out of his mouth, floating through the floor and disappearing.

Draco's knees give out, and he collapses on the ground.

"Get up," Snape says, grabbing Draco's shoulder and yanking him up. "Don't be weak. He needed to die."

Draco looks into Snape's eyes, and something passes between them. Draco remembers how Snape had been crying when they passed each other before Draco knew the plan. He hadn't known what it was at first, but he's sure he does now. He was crying because he already knew that he would have to kill his best friend. And maybe—just maybe—Snape had loved Draco's father. It would explain his being okay with Draco and Harry being something... But maybe not.

"I hope you die," Draco says to Snape. "Just like he did."

Snape's eyes narrow, but Draco knows that Snape knows he's acting.

"Go now," he says, pushing Draco towards the stairs. "The rest are coming, and they need not see your _weakness_."

Draco gives a last look to his father's body. Then he picks up Dumbledore's wand, and after a glare at the Headmaster, he throws it over the edge of the tower.

And then he walks down the tower stairs, heading into the battle he can hear ensuing below.

_**OoOoOoO**_

_The battle…_

"Take that, bitch!" Neville yells above the waging war as he and Lavender take on an unknown Death Eater.

She's hit right in the stomach and chest, and she flies backwards and hits a wall. Problem is, she gets right back up.

Trelawney starts to take her on for them, though, and it's weird to see that she's actually a _wicked_ dueler, blocking before the Death Eater can throw her curses. Maybe she's not that bad a divinator after all.

"Nev, look," Lavender says, grabbing Neville's hand.

Neville looks in the direction that she's point and is surprised to see Draco running his way across the room—and he's mostly surprised that Harry isn't with him. A Death Eater sends a spell at him now and again, but they practically miss him on purpose. He doesn't even turn to defend himself.

Neville and Lavender start to head after the blond, but they don't get far.

Lavender gives a gasp as a large lick of purple flame goes straight through her chest, disappearing when it's completely through her.

"No!" Neville yells, catching her before she hits the ground. He drags her out of the middle of the room, and that's all he can do. Wait until the battle is over so he can get help. Because Lavender isn't moving in her unconscious state, and that's not the most helpful thing in the self-protection department.

Draco slowly becomes forgotten.

_**OoOoOoO**_

It's over. Dumbledore had the worst feelings in his life not hours before he died—and then he _died_. Not to mention he was betrayed by Harry's own Head of House; his own Order member. Harry trusted Snape, too. Not anymore. Harry's going to kill him. He's going to kill all of the Death Eater's, especially Snape, Bellatrix, and Peter Pettigrew. It's weird to think about, but if Lucius were still alive he wouldn't even contemplate killing him. In fact, if Harry could, he'd bring Draco's dad _back_.

But he can't think about that right now. He has to find Draco. Draco was there when Dumbledore was murdered. In fact, he had been the one to disarm him as soon as he froze Harry... But Snape showed up instantly, and he shooed Draco away, saying something like, "Quick, they're coming." Harry soon learned that other Death Eater's were who was coming, but he's still confused—and _angry_. Did Draco betray him? But he doesn't have a Dark Mark…so he couldn't have. Harry needs to find out what's going on, and he needs to find out _now_.

_**OoOoOoO**_

_Draaacooo…_

Draco turns around, but no one is there.

_Draacoo…_

The voice is low and ghostlike and searching. It can't find him. They can't find each other.

_Draco…_

"Where are you?" Draco wants to yell. But he's frightened. He's done something horrible—_horrible_. But Dumbledore told him to…he had to do it. When the Headmaster tells you to do something, you have to do it, don't you? When you promise that you will, and that you won't tell anybody? But Dumbledore said that Draco could tell Harry. Dumbledore knew that Harry would find out—how, Draco doesn't know—and that Draco would have to defend himself at least against the one-of-two most important person in the world to him. The other one-of-two person already knows about it; half of it was Lavender's idea, after all. How she became a planner for the plans of the Headmaster, Draco will never know.

"Draco!"

Hey, the voice is normal now! It found him!

"Dammit, Draco, wake up! You're part of a war, here!"

Hey. Hey! That's Harry's voice! Wake up, Draco! Wake up!

"Rennervate didn't work?" another voice asks. That's Ron's voice.

"No, he already tried it," a third voice says. That's Hermione.

"Dray, wake up, pwease," a little fourth voice says. "We need tuh fix yuh!"

Draco's eyes flicker open, instantly finding his cousin. "Remmy," he says. He starts to sit up, but an intense pain shoots through his right leg, causing him to cry out and flop back down.

"Don't move," Harry says, putting a hand to Draco's forehead. "You've broken your right leg. Don't ask me how. Hermione's conjured up a stretcher for you, and we're going to float you back to the Great Hall to find somebody who knows the bone-mending spell. Don't move, now. Remus, back up, you're in our way."

"Sowwy." Remus backs up to the nearest wall.

"Where am I?" Draco asks, getting a good look at his surroundings. There are a lot of statues, but _zero_ paintings or tapestries or any other decorations at all. There is a rather lovely, dust and spider web covered chandelier, though.

"Seventh floor, corridor L," Hermione says. "Statue armory."

"I still don't understand how you've memorized that entire book," Ron says as the three wizards painlessly lift Draco onto the stretcher. It hurts when he touches down, but not as bad as when he tried to use the weight of his leg to lever himself up.

"Considering that she's read it eight times," Harry says, "not to mention writing her paraphrased essay about house elves that aren't mentioned in it at all, it's really not that hard to comprehend."

"It's a figure of speech, Harry," Hermione says, starting to float Draco along. "Don't hurt yourself."

"I was just saying," Harry mutters, turning to Remus. "Come on, Rem. It's time to fix Drake."

Remus lifts his arms to Harry, and Harry swings the child up into his arms, cradling the boys head against his shoulder. Draco's not sure why, but Harry stays far behind him, not really focusing on anything. Had he already found out about it? But how could he... It wasn't even ten minutes ago. Or...how long had Draco been out? It could have been hours. Another thing, how had Draco gotten out in the first place? And what was his cousin doing here? Was Felicia around? These were questions he needed answers to _pronto_.

"Where's Snape?" Draco asks, looking at Hermione. He trusts that she'd know more than Ron would.

"Gone," Hermione says darkly. "Harry chased him after he saw him murder Dumbledore, but he and all the Death Eater's got away."

Draco's jaw drops. Harry saw the murder. That means...that means he saw what Draco did. He saw it.

"Harry!" he yells, searching for his Slytherin. "Harry, please!"

"He's not here, Draco," Ron says. "He went a different way with the kid."

"No!" Draco lifts his hands and just rests them on top of his face. "He thinks I did it! I mean, I did do it, but I had to! Ron, I _had_ to! I made a promise to Dum—"

"Whoa, calm down," Ron says, resting a hand on Draco's shoulder. "I don't have a clue what you're talking about, and I have an idea that you'd rather just keep it between you and your boyfriend. You seem pretty traumatized."

Draco lets out a shaky breath. "Yeah. Yeah, okay. Thank you, Ron."

"Anytime, mate."

Wow, Draco's fellow Gryffindor has really grown up. Too bad he's spent exactly zero quality time with the guy.

_**XxX**_

The first adult they find is ex-Professor Lupin, who fixes Draco up in a single bone-mending spell. Then he repeats it a few times to Hermione so she can memorize it (she had been grumbling the entire way to the Great Hall about not know it already). As soon as both of them are confident she has it, she goes off to tend to some of those in pain.

"For a Slytherin," Draco says, swinging his leg around (the splint was put away, and the stretcher went with Lupin), "she sure as hell doesn't act like one."

Ron breathes out a laugh. "Yeah, you obviously don't know her at all, then."

"What's to know? She just went to save lives."

"No, she just went to show off. If this weren't a war, she'd be the one _injuring_ people. She'd done it before and she'll happily do it again."

Draco grins. "Yeah, I guess I see it. I just—"

"Don't mean to interrupt you or nothin', but Harry's comin' this way."

Draco spins around, and his eyes instantly find his green-eyed, mess of black hair walking towards them with Remus still in his arms.

"Harry!" Draco says, a bright smile on his face. "I—"

"Here," Harry says, setting Remus down in front of Draco. "I have to go." He turns around and begins walking away without another word.

"Harry, wait!" Draco says, going after him, leaving both Ron and Remus where they are.

"No, I can't," Harry says without during around. "Dumbledore is out there. I'm going with Hagrid and Lupin to get him."

"Well then I can come with you, you need all the help you can g—"

"No, Draco, we don't," he says, turning around. His eyes are like fire, sad and angry at the same time. It frightens Draco. He's never seen it directed at him before. "We don't need anybody's help, and especially nor your help. Why would Dumbledore want you anywhere near his body, after what you did?"

"No, you don't understand," Draco says, not beating around the bush. It's beyond obvious now that Harry saw, and he has to tell him now or he could lose him for far too long. "I—"

"No," Harry says, holding up a hand. "I don't want to hear any excuses. Talk to me when I'm done with Dumbledore." He starts to turn around, but Draco grabs his hand—and Harry shakes him right back off.

"I had to!" Draco says, going after Harry as he walks quickly away. "He told me I _had _to!" Draco realizes how much that sounded like Voldemort told him he had to, but Harry starts talking before he can open his mouth and correct it.

"Yeah, and what was going to happen if you didn't? Your mum's in a safe house and your dad is already _dead_; you have nothing to lose but me."

Draco stops walking. Harry stops for just a second to turn around to glare at him, but then he's off again.

Draco doesn't follow him. He runs to the nearest bathroom and empties his stomach of every regret he's ever had, and every mistake he's ever made. He cries more than legal, leaning against one of the sinks, letting his tears spill over and slide down the drain.

_You have nothing to lose but me._

But he had to. Dumbledore told him he had to. It was all part of the plan. Draco doesn't even know the plan himself, but he knows one exists.

He had to do it. He promised.

_**OoOoOoO**_

_After finishing with Dumbledore..._

Harry walks through the corridors, searching for the Gryffindor. He's still pissed at him, but he had just talked to Hermione, and she said something about Draco going a bit insane when calling for Harry. She also said that he mentioned something about making a promise to Dumbledore before Ron cut him off. Is that who he meant told him he had to? Harry thought he meant Voldemort…

It all has to mean something. Whatever it is, Harry has to get over his feelings of anger and talk to Draco about it. Not only will it give him more insight on to why Snape betrayed Dumbledore, but maybe it will clear the whole thing involving Draco up. Draco would never do something that would result in the death of another unless it was Voldemort... And besides, Draco didn't know that his mum had dropped Remus off, so he didn't know that she was safe.

Harry sighs. That line about Draco's dad was a bit much, he supposed. He was just so angry... And he had a right to be, too! Draco had ensured Dumbledore's death, and that deserves some anger! Tons of it, actually. Some is too small of an amount.

"Hey, Colin," Harry says, stopping the sixth year in the hallway. He's surrounded by a bunch more from his year, all of which Harry doesn't know. "Do you know where Draco is?"

Colin bites his bottom lip. "Bathroom. He's a mess, mate. Careful, though, he's really good with those Avis/Oppugno spells."

Harry nods, jogging away from them to the bathroom without another word.

When he gets to the door, he takes a deep breath before cracking the door. "Draco, it's me. Don't hit me with anything, please."

Draco sobs on the far side of the room. "I'm not promising anything," he says, his voice stuffy. "Come in, though."

Harry does, following the sniffing until he comes to Draco, bent over at a sink. When he looks up at Harry through the mirror, his eyes are smudgy and his nose and cheeks are red.

Harry sighs, his anger disappearing completely, at least for now. He crosses the room, his arms open. Draco turns around right away, falling into them.

"Fuck you," he whispers.

"I could say the same to you, murder accomplice," Harry says darkly.

"You couldn't have waited for the whole story?"

"Why would I? You wouldn't have waited for me if it was the other way around."

Draco pulls away and leans against the back of the sink. "Yeah, whatever. Are you going to let me explain now or what?"

Harry sighs. "Yeah, whatever."

"You can't tell anybody."

"It wasn't my plan to."

Draco sucks in a deep breath. "I got a note from Dumbledore, telling me to go see him in his office. It was during my free period, which I don't have with any of my friends, so nobody saw me go to him. When I was in there, he told me the lesser details of a plan. His death was imminent, he knew, and he needed to be killed. He knew that Tom—I mean, the Dark Lord was sending somebody to kill him, so I obviously didn't have to do it. But...there are finer details of the plan that I don't know, but for them to work I had to be the one that disarmed him from his wand. I know that I had to be the one so the Dark Lord would later hear about it and think that I'm maybe on his side. I'm still not sure of more details, but I know that has to happen.

"So you see, I had to do it. I promised Dumbledore that I would even before he told me what it was I had to do. I didn't do it to get him killed—I mean, I did, but you know—I did it for his plan. I didn't know that Snape was the one waiting to kill him, but I know it now... I can't believe he would do that. I knew Snape was a Death Eater, but I was hoping that he was just pretending and actually on the good side, you know?" (_You and me both, hun_, Harry thinks.) "Anyway, that's what happened, okay? So I would appreciate it if you got off my back about being a murder accomplice. It wasn't really a life event I had planned."

Harry smiles. He actually smiles. "So you're not secretly a Death Eater?"

Draco gives Harry an annoyed look. "Yeah, because my tattoo makes it so obvious." He yanks his left sleeve back, revealing bare skin.

"Hey, seeing you disarm him...that scared me, okay? I don't remember half of anything that even went through my head at the time."

Draco sighs, pushing his sleeve back down. "We're both just messes, aren't we?"

"What gave it away? Our dead parents or the arguing?"

Draco smiles too, but barely. Funny how he's feeling worse than Harry is. Of course, he has been through tons as well...at least Harry doesn't remember his parents' death. Draco _watched_ his father die.

"You didn't mentally break up with me, did you?" he asks, looking down at his left hand on the edge of the sink. "Cause if you did, it means I have to start over counting."

Harry cocks an eyebrow. "Counting?"

Draco looks up at him. "Naturally."

"Counting what?"

"How long we've been in a relationship, of course."

Harry blinks at him. "You've been keeping track?"

Draco nods, like it's something everybody does.

"Well, how long as it been, then?"

"Starting from the first day of school, on September first, to May ninth today, it's been eight months and nine days, which is two-hundred and fifty-one days." He smiles brightly at Harry.

Harry just stares at him. He doesn't even blink.

"You're kidding."

Draco cocks an eyebrow. "Do I _sound_ kidding?"

Harry shakes his head in mock disappointment. "If we weren't getting over the aftermath of a battle, I'd do you right at that sink. We are, though, so we have to go. Come on."

He takes Draco's hand, and Draco goes willingly with him out of the bathroom. He's probably feeling the same way anyway. Watching two deaths doesn't really put anyone normal in a romantic room.

_**OoOoOoO**_

"There you are," Colin says as soon as Draco and Harry exit the bathroom. "I didn't go in because I was afraid of what I'd find."

Harry elbows Draco lightly, and Draco just pushes him and his grin away. "Heyuh, messenger. More bad news?"

Colin blinks at him. "Messenger? More? What?

Oh. Yeah. Alecto wiped his memory. Awkward. "Uh, never mind, wrong person. What is it?"

"You guys are needed in the hospital wing. Lupin and Tonks are there, along with Longbottom and Lavender."

Both Draco and Harry frown. "Right, thanks," Draco says.

Still holding onto his hand, Harry leads Draco to the hospital wing. Colin trails behind them, giving both of them plenty of space. Draco wonders how far back his memory was wiped...or maybe he only had specific things wiped. Alecto Carrow was always good with those memory charms. Maybe even better than Gilderoy Lockhart. But then again, maybe not.

"Draco!" Neville says from across the room, not even seeming to notice Harry. He's standing beside one of the beds, and in the bed is Lavender.

Draco sprints across the room, Harry close behind him. Lavender is being fed a special potion by wand, the wand being moved by Madam Pomfrey.

"Sweet Merlin, what happened?" Draco asks, pushing Neville aside and taking Lavender's limp hand.

"Antonin Dolohov curse," Neville says, stroking her hair.

"She'll be fine in the next few days, then," Harry says. "Do you remember when—"

"When Hermione got hit with it? Yeah, and I remember her explaining how painful it is, too."

Draco drops Lavender's hand, and Neville instantly takes it back.

"Who else is hurt?" Draco asks quietly.

"Hardly anybody at all," Lupin's voice says. Harry whirls around to see him sitting beside Tonks on an empty bed. "Bill Weasley got attacked by Fenrir Greyback, but he'll heal fine. He won't turn into...well, into me."

Tonks punches him in the shoulder—_hard_. "I told you to stop doing that!"

"Well it's true!" Lupin protests.

"So, hurt people..." Draco hints.

"Right, that's about it," Lupin says, clamping his hands down around Tonks' so she can't hit him anymore. "Colin Creevey is feeling a bit disoriented, Luna Lovegood can't find her wand, and...and Dumbledore is behind there." Her releases one of his hands and points to the only bed with a curtain pulled shut around it.

Draco bursts into tears when he sees the curtain, and Harry holds him tightly in his arms (it's a lot easier now that he's taller). Harry's the only one that knows what Draco had to go through.

"You already heard, then?" Tonks asks quietly.

"Yeah, but I didn't," Harry says before Draco can speak.

"He didn't tell you yet?" Lupin asks skeptically.

"He couldn't stop crying long enough to."

Draco punches Harry's shoulder a lot lighter than Tonks punched Lupin's, but Harry just kisses the top of Draco's head.

"Right," Lupin says, nodding. "We went up there to see about the Dark Mark, and Lucius Malfoy was there, dead. But then Snape appeared, and before we could do anything he disappear with the body. It wasn't an apparation, but he was just gone. We couldn't have gotten him even if we were ready for it..."

Harry's blood runs cold even as Draco starts to sob harder (this being his first time hearing the news), gripping the front of Harry's shirt and soaking it through to his skin. Harry wanted the body, and he knows Draco sure as hell wanted it. Even the Boy Who Lived was going to make sure Lucius got a nice funeral. And with the Malfoy's money, it'd probably be even nicer than Dumbledore's.

"When's the funeral?" Harry asks quietly. "For Dumbledore, I mean."

"Tomorrow," Tonks says, moving her hands around to grip them tightly back to Lupin's. "Two o'clock in the afternoon. We've already set Hagrid out to build his coffin."

"Right." He leans his mouth down to Draco's ear. "Let's get out of here."

_**OoOoOoO**_

"It went through here," Draco says, bending down and pushing his hand over the stone that Lucius had been laying on. "That ball of light I told you about on the way here. I don't know what it was."

"Was it the same colour as Patronus' are?" Harry asks, leaning against the edge of the astronomy tower ledge.

Draco nods.

"It could have been his soul, then..."

Draco looks up at Harry. "Does that mean he could be a...ghost?"

Harry sighs. "Don't get your hopes up. I've done it before and it hurts even more when you realize it's not possible."

Draco sighs and sits down completely, drawing random swirls on the stone.

Harry turns and looks out over the dark expanse of land. He can barely make things out. There are stars out now, and even a moon. No clouds, though. The Dark Mark above them is gone, washed away by the Order members.

"SQUAWK!"

Harry screams like a girl—a manly girl—and falls off the ledge, thankfully on the side that he just falls back down onto the astronomy tower.

"Fawkes!" he yells, glaring at the scarlet phoenix. "You could have killed me."

Fawkes just stares at him, cooing sadly and crying.

"Oh, Fawkes, it's okay..." Harry opens his arms, and the regal bird flutters forward and into Harry's arms, burying its head into Harry's chest.

Draco crawls over beside them, wrapping his arms around both man and bird.

"We'll get through it," Harry says quietly, throwing on of his arms around Draco. "We've got each other."

Harry looks down at Fawkes, and the bird has stopped crying.

"He stopped singing," Draco says quietly. "Why?"

Both boys pull away to look down at Fawkes.

The majestic, scarlet, flaming phoenix is indeed silent, its tears cold on its feathers, but still glistening in the brilliant starlight. Harry rubs his fingers on his side, beneath where the wing hangs.

"He's cold," Harry whispers.

"Fawkes," Draco says, turning the bird more towards him. He had already been crying over his father. He's still crying. "Fawkes, wake up."

"He's gone, Draco," Harry whispers, holding the bird closer to himself.

Draco starts to cry harder, and he leans forward and throws his arms around Harry and Fawkes, his tears splashing down onto the feathers of the bird.

Harry's arms tighten around Fawkes, and for the first time all night, he cries too. He never would have guessed that after watching two people die, it would have been the pet phoenix that finally made him crack.

He watched Fawkes be born again from its own ashes. The bird saved his life three times in second year, first bringing the Sorting Hat, second gouging out the Basilisks eyes, and then crying on him to heal him from the Basilisks poison. The scarlet flyer saved Dumbledore's life with his duel against Voldemort, taking the Avada Kedavra curse for its master back during Harry's fifth year.

Fawkes has always been around. And now Dumbledore is gone, and Fawkes has gone to follow him.

_**OoOoOoO**_

When Madam Pomfrey finally shoos Neville out, he goes to search for Harry and Draco. He doesn't find them for hours, but when he does, they have their arms tight around each other and Dumbledore's phoenix, Fawkes.

And Fawkes is dead.

Both boys have tears dried hard on their faces, and there are even tearstains on Fawkes' feathers.

He can't get them to move to save his life, so he goes and gets Lupin and Tonks to help him.

They can't move them either.

So they leave the couple up there. Neville will return for them in the morning. And maybe they'll move then, just long enough to burry the beautiful phoenix on the same little island as Dumbledore will be buried, in his own little grave beside Dumbledore's.

But he almost doubts that their moving will actually happen. Fawkes was the last thing they had to Dumbledore. And now the bird is gone, lost forever with his master.

* * *

A/N: 1. What's really cool about May 9th is, that's my ex-boyfriends birthday. I've decided to make that a really bad day, because why the fuck not?

2. Also, the whole Invisibility Cloak thing. If you haven't noticed, you'll realize now that this is the first time it's been mentioned at all. I didn't write it into the actual story, but Dumbledore didn't give it to Harry until they went on their journey to get the locket.

3. You know you're too into your own story when the death of a bird makes you cry as you write it.

4. I just realized how normal my chapter titles are starting to sound. How boring :/


	25. The Summer Before 7th Year, Part I

**The Summer Before Seventh Year, Part I: A World of Colours**

Beginning chapter A/N's: Just a heads up, if you haven't read my _Ending A/N, Part II: The Colours_ yet, you're definitely going to want to for this chapter. Because they talk about everyone's Glimmer Bag colours, but instead of giving the entire description of the colour it just gives little hints to what it means. So what you could do is, if you're reading this on the actual , you could open two screens and have one always open to the colour descriptions! Just a helpful idea :)  
And this chapter is dedicated to colours because they're awesome.

* * *

Mad-Eye Moody is dead, along with Hedwig. Mad-Eye gave his life to bring Harry safely to the Burrow, and Hedwig blocked a killing curse from hitting Harry square in the chest. Draco cried for them; even though the old man had turned him into a ferret, he had ended up liking him, and Hedwig had been so young.

The first month Harry spent at his relative's house (school was also let out on June first, though, all exams canceled, which Hermione was only annoyed at because she had already spent so much time studying.) Then the plan came in, and Harry was taken to the safe house that Draco and his mother had been staying in, which is when Moody and Hedwig were killed and George's ear was hexed off by none other than Severus Snape. It pained Draco not to see Harry at all, but they had decided that instead of Draco going with Harry to the Dursley's house, he would spend as much time as he could with his mother.

The safe house belonged to Tonks, where her father, Ted, and mother, Andromeda, lived. _That's_ how Draco knew he was related to the girl. Andromeda is his mother's older sister. That's why they stayed there, along with little Remus. An obvious Killing Curse had murdered Remus' own parents, but nobody could think of a good enough reason why—nor did they have any idea where Felicia was. So Draco's mother picked up Remus and dropped him off at Hogwarts as soon as the battle was over so Draco would be able to bring him back to her as soon as it was safe, because she was being followed and she didn't want the little boy hurt.

Now that Tia (Remus' mother) was dead, Draco and his mother had no problem with using the necessary spells to fix the entire side of his left body. He had all feeling now, and he no longer needed any glasses. It was the happiest month Remus had ever seen, and it even brought a smile to Draco's face even when Harry wasn't around. (Funny how a month in sixth year killed them both, but a month in the summer was just a bit of time off. Both of them have grown so much, and so much has changed. You can't view anything the same way anymore….)

When Harry arrived with Hagrid from "escaping" from the Dursley's home, Draco was already packed and had already said his goodbyes. Hagrid and the two boys left almost as soon as Harry showed up to go to the Burrow, where the Weasley's and everybody who had gotten Harry safely here would arrive.

Problem is, Moody never showed up, and George had lost an ear and made the worst ear joke known to man. That's when everything started to go downhill.

"I don't think I can sleep tonight," Draco whispers as he cuddles in Harry's arms in their bed. They're sharing a room with Ron, but the ginger said that it would be okay if they slept together as long as no figurative sleeping or anything related was involved while he was in the room. Remmy had had to come with them because the Burrow was safer than Andromeda's place, and he was sharing a room with Hermione and Ginny because the two girls easily took care of him the best aside from Mollie, but she's always busy with more important things.

"That's okay," Harry says. "Molly said that she wouldn't wake us up early in the morning because we've had such a strenuous time. Of course, she's getting all of the Weasley's up, and Hermione said to wake her up as well."

"Percy still gone?"

"Percy was never here. He's practically disowned this family."

"Not that I don't love listening to conversations about my brother or anything," Ron says darkly from his bed, "but I'm going to be able to sleep fine as soon as you two stop talking."

"Sorry," Draco and Harry say in unison.

Ron falls asleep first, and Draco quickly followers, no matter how much he said that he wouldn't be able to. All this traveling has made his nerves jumpy but his body tired.

He doesn't know when Harry sleeps.

_**XxX**_

_The first of July..._

"Dammit, Pidwigeon!"

Harry narrows his eyes at Ron, because his loud voice at the owl that he and Gin share jolted Draco from his sleep.

"Dammit yourself," Harry mutters, his arms tightly around his blond.

"Merlin's wives," Gin says, stopping in her attempt to catch the owl to stare at the two boys still in bed. "Are you two naked?"

"Yeah," Draco says cheekily, his voice groggy from just waking up. "Wanna see?"

"I'm out!" Ron says, dropping his arms from trying to get the bird. "You need the owl," he says to Gin, "you catch him."

"No, I'm good," Gin says, following her brother out.

Pidwigeon flies out of the room as well just before the door shuts, and Draco instantly pushes himself out of Harry's arms and wraps his own arms around Harry's neck and presses a hot, sloppy kiss to his lips.

"Someone just woke up," Harry says, pulling away and wiping the spit off of his face, and then drying his Gryffindor's own lips.

"And someone's still in loo-oove with yooouu!" Draco says in a singsong voice.

"Yeah, and he went insane while he dreamt."

"What, don't you know I sing?"

"Whatever! You've never sang to me once."

"Well if it weren't morning I would!"

"Yeah right."

Draco grins. "Give me an hour, and then I'll serenade you to the stars."

"Whatever," Harry says, leaning forward to kiss him again. "You couldn't possibly be able to. Playing the harp is enough."

Draco blushes. "Don't say that so loud."

"But it's so amazing!" Harry says, kissing his blond again. "Honestly, I'd be showing off constantly if I could play an instrument."

"But it's a harp."

"A _giant_ harp, nonetheless."

"Oh, never mind. I'm hungry, and the Weasel's let in the aroma of breakfast."

Harry gets up as Draco does, both boys sporting morning wood. Harry almost can't help himself, but he happens to be starving as well, and some things are just more pressing than sex—especially when you just had it last night because your roommate decided to leave to interrupt his brothers with a plan that you're unaware to the details of.

"Hey, Drake?" Harry says as he and Draco go down the stairs, freshly showered and dressed.

"Mmm?" Draco says, waving his fingers through Harry's.

"What do you think about going for a jog after breakfast?"

Draco blinks skeptically as the two boys walk forward. "Jog?"

"Yeah, you know, a slow run? Exercise? Builds up muscle?"

Draco scrunches up his nose as they step off the stairs. "Why would we build up muscle when we never need to fight? Besides, aren't there spells for that?"

"It's not just to build muscle," he says, pushing open the door and walking into the kitchen. "It relieves stress and _loosens up_ your other muscles."

"Yeah, and makes you sore, and makes you tired, and makes you _sweaty_. Do you know how many zits can pop up from a single sweat? Too many to say, my friend."

Harry frowns. "Friend?"

"Friend, boyfriend, Boy Who Lived, the reason for my existence," he says, flitting his hand through the air. "You get the picture."

Harry smiles, and before Draco can do anything else he pulls his silver-eyed beauty forward to plant a firm kiss on his lips.

When they pull away, both of them at the same time notice that they're not alone in the kitchen.

"Mooorning," George says, a bandage wrapped around his head as he drinks a cup of hot tea and leans against the counter in front of the sink.

"Where's Fred?" Draco asks as he and Harry unwind themselves from each other. "And where's breakfast?"

"Fred is where breakfast is," George says, "and breakfast is outside. We have a lot more people here than usual, and they don't all fit in the kitchen. I suggest you hurry, by the way. One of them is going to have an aneurysm if she doesn't see you _pronto_."

Harry and Draco look at each other. "'Ender," they say in unison. They grin, and then leave George in the kitchen to go out into the back yard.

As they step out of the back door, Harry's jaw drops. There are indeed too many people to fit inside of the house. From Slytherin (aside from George, Gin, and Hermione who were here a long time ago), there's Neville and Millicent. From Gryffindor (besides Fred, Ron, and Draco) there's Colin and Lavender. There are no Ravenclaw's unless you count the graduated adults, and there are no Hufflepuff's unless you count Tonks, who's standing over with Lupin. Two other Weasley brothers, Bill and Charlie, are here, and...good gods, is that Fleur Delacour? With her arms around Bill? Harry had heard about their relationship, but...well, he didn't think it was true. He should have just asked Molly about it. But McGonagall is also here, along with Hagrid, Slughorn, Trelawney, and Madam Pomfrey.

"I'll tackle 'Ender," Draco says, letting go of Harry, "while you check out Fleur. I'm sure she's dying to see you."

"She is," Harry says. "She's already waving at me."

The two boys separate, and Harry braces himself for a million reasons why a million people are here—and a whole lot of questions from Fleur in regards to how Bravery is doing. He'll have a lot of fun with _those_ questions.

_**XxX**_

Everyone had a reason why they're at the Burrow, but not all of their reasons are important.

Neville is here with Lavender and partly for Harry and partly on George's request, but that's all he's at liberty to say. Colin is here for Draco, and Lavender is here for Draco, Harry, _and_ Neville. And everybody else is here for the wedding that's apparently happening between Bill and Fleur. And Millicent is mostly here for _Bill_, of all people. Apparently she got a summer-after-third-year job at Gringotts (wizards obviously have very different age requirements than muggles), and Bill happened to be around a ton that summer, and he helped her out with some stuff. She's also here to see Harry and Neville, though, which strikes Harry as awkward since Neville's dating Lavender.

And not to mention the second wedding that every single person is here for—especially Lupin and Tonks, because it's their own wedding! The wedding is tomorrow at noon, and nobody bothered to tell Harry _or_ Draco this news. It's just going to be a tiny wedding, which is why nobody is running around the house trying to make everything perfect. It's just going to be out in the yard, and there's not even going to be a meal afterwards because it's not safe for so many Order members/people on Voldemort's Hit List to be in one place for very long.

Fleur and Bill's wedding (which just happens to be taking place on Harry's birthday, so there's exactly one month till then if you count today and the day of the wedding), on the other hand, is going to be gigantic, inviting people that Bill knows and Fleur's family and who knows how many other people. That's another reason that Lupin and Tonks are going to have a short wedding: because they're already going to be here so long that day, they don't want to push it by being here forever for two days. Even though they'll be so far apart, it will attract attention if the Death Eaters notice two large parties in the same area.

"George," Harry says, walking over to the kissing twins in a dark room of the house.

"Ugh," Fred says, lighting up the room with his wand.

"Told you," George says, burying his face back into the Gryffindor's neck.

"I know, I just didn't want to believe it. I'll see you later." They share one last hot kiss before Fred leaves, shutting the door behind him so that the room is dark again.

"Lumos," Harry and George say together.

"You want to know why I asked Neville to come," George says, patting the chair beside him.

"Right," Harry nods, sitting there. "I certainly hope you're not trying to get us together. He's finally happy."

George rolls his eyes. "Not everything is about you, you know. I brought him here for my sake only. He's a friend of mine, and I honestly just wanted to say hello. And before you ask, the only reason I wouldn't let Neville tell you that on his own is because you'd think he was lying and come talk to me anyway."

"I don't know, it's just weird," Harry says, rubbing his temples. "I'm not used to him not loving me, you know?"

George chuckles. "I definitely know. But he still loves you. He just…loves Lavender more."

"So, what, if Lavender dies, then he'll just revert back to me? That's sick!"

"Yeah, so be happy that's not the case. Just…watch them, won't you? Don't treat this month as a time to burn Ron's eyes out with sex. Treat it as a time to get to know people. Fred's going to give Draco the same idea. Talk about it with him—Draco, I mean. Sure, burn Ron's eyes out on occasion, but not until you know everyone like the back of your hand. Including your boyfriend, while you're at it. You'd surprised how different you've both become." George winks, and Harry follows him out of the house and outside, where George walks over to Fred, pulling him away from Draco to kiss him warmly in front of all who are in the yard.

Fred kisses him back passionately, and most of the crowd gives some sort of implication that they're perfect for each other. Some of them turn away, their inner thoughts hidden. Arthur and Molly exchange a look, but Harry's sure he's the only one who notices that bit.

But as the twins pull apart, Draco is at Harry's side, taking his hand. "They have a point," he says. "Getting to know everyone, I mean."

"Yeah," Harry says, smiling down at his blond. "I know they do. I have an idea, though. Instead of actually getting to know them, why don't we figure out what all of their Glimmer Bag colours are? The Bags are so popular now that I bet everybody knows their colour, you know? Just knowing what the colour is will allow us to know how they work through everything."

Draco's smiles. "That's a brilliant idea! We'll each take certain people to ask their colour, and then relay the colours to the other! I'll take the Slytherin's, and you can take the Gryffindor's. That way we're apt to know them even better! Even though most of your friends hate me still…"

"That's not true! They all love you! Well…with the exception of Neville for obvious reasons, and maybe Hermione as well, but she doesn't really like anybody."

Draco rolls his eyes. "My point exactly. It's okay, though. I'm pretty sure Ron still hates you."

"Right, of course. Anyway, if I'm doing Gryffindor's, that means I have to talk to Ron, Colin, Lavender, and Fred…hey, if I'm going to do Fred, I might as well do George. They're so similar anyway. I mean, he's my best friend, but that probably means I should be the one to talk to him anyway. Do you want Lavender, since she's your best friend?"

"That's a good idea for you to just take George, and no, I don't want her. She's not the type of best friend that I need to always be around, you know?"

Harry nods. "Yeah, it's kind of like that for George and me."

"Right, well, if I'm doing the Slytherin's minus George, that still means I have to get both of 'Ville and 'Mione to talk to me, don't I? Neville will be easy, but I'm not all too sure what I'll do about Ron's girlfriend… And then I have 'Cent and Ginny. That's great, because I really like 'Cent, but…well, I really hate Ginny. I _hate_ her. So this will be a good challenge, right?"

Harry nods sarcastically. "Right. Make sure not to call her Gin or she'll rip your heart out. She doesn't really like you either."

Draco wrinkles his nose up. "I wouldn't call her that anyway."

"Good."

"Alright. Brilliant plan. Let's go. Oh, hey, be careful with 'Ender. Even though you're only asking the colour of her Glimmer Bag, she'll end up overwhelming you anyway."

"Yeah, I figured."

_**XxX**_

_When Harry is telling Draco the colours he's learned…_

Ron is a grass green, so he really likes being outside. I don't know him that well, but I don't think I ever would have guessed it anyway. You wouldn't have either? I didn't think so. He doesn't exactly _seem_ like a people person, especially considering that he's dating Miss Hates the World.

Fred is royal purple, which doesn't strike me as any sort of odd. He definitely seems like the type of guy who would go all out with anything anyone threw at him.

George, on the other hand, is turquoise, which actually surprises me somewhat. I mean, I used to be turquoise before I changed to evergreen green, and now I'm back again! I wish the Bags changed more than just once every three months. Anyway, about George. He strikes me more as the royal purple kind of guy as well, but I guess not.

Colin is yellow, which doesn't surprise me one bit. He is the nicest, happiest, most annoying Gryffindor I have ever met in my life—no, shut up, he's annoying and you know it. I swear to Merlin he's still a first year when it comes to everything but that place in his heart that feels for people. He told me about the time that he found you crying in the Quidditch stands…when Neville and I were mad at each other. I'm so sorry, Draco. I had no idea how much it really affected you. I thought…well, thinking tended to evade me at those times. Anyway, the little tike also told me that he has the same colour as Molly! This wouldn't surprise me if it weren't for the fact that Ron's mother is absolutely terrifying when she's upset…

Anyway, on to Lavender. She…yeah, she overwhelmed me a bit, but not near as much as you'd think. Actually, I think Colin got to me a bit more than even she did. Either way, I know that she used to be a lavender, but since showing up here it happens to have been three months since the last time her colour changed—which it never has, by the way—and it turned to cornflower blue, of all colours! It is amazing how you can jump to your opposite colour so suddenly… I wonder what's set her so on edge. Do you think she'd tell anyone? She's not really the type of person to keep things from only certain people. Hell, she's not even the type of person to keep secrets! The word "privacy" isn't even in her vocabulary, let alone "secret". I honestly don't think she even cares if she keeps things from people…she just thinks its funny when they try to figure it out.

Well, anyway…your turn.

_**OoOoOoO**_

_Then Draco tells Harry…_

'Cent is orange, which explains why she could pull off the whole fake relationship she had with 'Ville at the beginning of sixth year! And, speaking of 'Ville, he's a cream-sickle orange, so that explains him as well. And it honestly makes sense to me. 'Cent seems like the type of person who would go into acting or something, and 'Ville seems to never show exactly what he's thinking. For a Slytherin, he sure is _quiet_.

'Mione is red, which doesn't surprise me _at all_. I have no idea what Ron sees in her. She is _mean_, and a ridiculous show-off. The only way I could get her to stop snapping at me about something was when I asked her about Ron! She really loves him, which does in fact surprise me.

Ginny is…ugh. She is de_testable_. It took me about ten minutes to get her to talk to me, and another five before she would tell me her Glimmer Bag colour. I had to explain the entirety of what you and I were doing and how the twins suggested it, and she still didn't want to tell me until I told her that it was George's idea first! I feel so bad for you, when she liked you…actually, she still likes you, but I don't want to think about it. She's a royal purple, which makes sense, I guess. I don't know her very well, but from what I've seen she never strays from the passionate things in life. She is one of the most opinionated people I have ever met—meaning she's a bigot and has gigantic stereotypes—and she refuses to ever lose in an argument. I just…just…_argh_! I hate her!

Moving on to—oh. I'm done.

_**OoOoOoO**_

_The day of Lupin and Tonks' wedding…_

"Harry! Oh, _Harry_!"

Harry turns, George at his side, to see Molly waving them to come back down the stairs.

"Yes?" Harry says. "What is it?"

"The wedding is in only _three_ hours, and the piano just smoked over while Ginny was perfecting her play of the wedding waltz! Do you know anything that could fix it? Its muggle, so I had to find you, dear."

Harry purses his lips. Do muggle pianos smoke over? Do _wizard_ pianos even smoke over? "Sorry, but I have no idea how pianos work. Maybe Lavender knows some—"

"No, I already asked her! Harry, this is _so_ important. Do you know of any_thing_ or any_one_ that could save anyone from having to _sing_ the song?"

"I'm sorry, Molly, but I really have no id—"

George slaps his hand over Harry's mouth to shut him up. "Actually, mother, Harry and I do know someone who's musically inclined enough to learn the song _and_ play it for Lupin and Tonks' wedding, and all of the other songs if we can get him to."

Harry frowns and turns to George, pushing his hand away. "We do?"

George gives him a look, and Harry instantly turns back to Molly and nods. "Right, we do."

"Splendid!" Molly says, clasping her hands together. "I'll put you two with the task to preparing him, because I have three-hundred other things to do."

"But, didn't Lupin say they were only going to have a small wedding?"

"Oh, of course. But we have to make sure the wards are extra strong, that everybody shows up safely, and when I have everything set up I have to make sure that whoever your friend is can actually play."

"Actually, mum," George says, "I promise you that you won't need to check up on him. He'll probably be too…nervous to do it more times than he needs to."

Molly eyes them nervously.

"Molly, honestly," Harry says, nodding at her. "Just because we're Slytherin's doesn't mean you can't trust us. The guy we know is…is, um…"

"He's Gryffindor anyway," George throws in, smiling.

"Right," Harry says, nodding faster.

Molly smiles. "Alright, I trust you. Maybe. What instrument does he play?"

George grins, and Harry stares at him as intensely as Molly does.

"Mother dearest," the slythering weasel begins. "How do you feel about _harps_?"

_**XxX**_

"No," Draco says, staring up at Harry and George with wide eyes from his spot on the bed. "No. No. _No_. There is not a chance in _hell_ that I will do any sort of performing in front of anyone except Harry—well, and you and Fred, George, since you've seen it all anyway. But in front of an entire audience? No. No. _No_."

"But Draaacooo," Harry whines, dropping down onto the bed beside him. "You're the only one who can do iiiit."

"Still no!"

"Pleeeeaaase? For the wedding?"

"Nooooo!"

"For me?"

Draco rolls his eyes. "I wouldn't even do it for myself, let alone _you_."

Harry frowns. "Nice of you."

Draco shrugs, crosses his legs, and crosses his arms.

George squats down in front of him so he's shorter—one of the few times anyone besides…actually, Harry can't think of anyone that's shorter than Draco. For someone who used to be so tall, he sure got short.

"Draco," George says, folding his hands and setting it on one of Draco's knees. "Let me be frank."

"Actually," Draco says, patting George's hands, "if anyone is frank, it should be Fred, since his name starts with F like Frank's does."

George blinks at him.

Draco pulls his hands away and coughs. "Continue."

"As I was saying," George says, eyeing Harry slightly (for reasons Harry assumes are "if it weren't for the fact that I could read the entirety of your mind I would question why you're in love with a Gryffindor as stupid as this one"). "What's something you have always wanted to do?"

Harry looks over at Draco with a bright smile, ready to hear this one.

But instead of giving a real answer, Draco's face turns the brightest red Harry has ever seen in his entire life.

And George bursts into laughter. "A few words of advice, my friend. Firstly, do not ever think about something as intense as you just did if you don't want anybody to find out. Fred heard that one _loud and clear_. Second, don't even _think_ about topaz or anything else remotely close to yellow. It will not match the gold _what_soever."

Draco turns more of a pinkish colour, looking down at the floor. "Don't tell anyone. _Anyone_. I swear to everything holy that I will—"

"Hang on a minute," Harry says, crossing his arms. "What did I miss?"

"Only Draco's biggest secret ever," George says, grinning. "But don't worry, Draco. Your secrets safe with me, I promise. How about I try and persuade you in some other way?"

"Yes please," Draco says, nodding fervently.

"I want to tell you a little story, then. Once, on the exact same day as today, in the exact same room as this, there was a boy. Just a boy, because he was way too short to be a man."

Draco frowns at this, but George pushes on:

"This boy had white-ish hair and grayish eyes, and he was dating the Boy Who Lived. Thing is, the Boy Who Lived has a friend with red hair and a thing for his own twin brother. But enough background story. One day, the boy was the only hope for a wedding. What he had to do was play his harp music for thirty minutes max, but he chickened out. Thirty years later, the boy didn't wake up because Har—er, the redhead friend of the Boy Who Lived slaughtered him in his sleep with a muggle mixing spoon. The end!" George stands up, a bright smile on his face. "I'll see you two later!" He waves like a girl as he skips out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Harry manages to hold back a snort when he looks over at Draco's face, eyes wide and skin even paler than his hair.

"So will you do it?" Harry asks, leaning over and burying his face into the crook of Draco's neck.

"I suppose I'll have to," Draco whispers.

Harry laughs. "He's not going to lay a hand on you, Drake. You know I wouldn't let him do that. We could just….oh, you know, skip the wedding and stay in here." He reaches his neck out and nibbles on Draco's earlobe.

Draco giggles and pushes Harry away. "Don't tempt me, you stupid Slytherin. I have a song to practice."

Harry smiles warmly at him. "You're really going to do it? I wouldn't if I were you. I mean, not to discourage you or anything, obviously… I just don't want you to do something you don't want. Like, you know, tell me that secret of yours."

Draco turns to him with a frown. "Don't you even _think_ about pushing this one."

Harry leans away from him with a sheepish grin.

Draco sighs, leaning over to rest his head onto Harry's shoulder. "How many songs do I have to play?"

"I don't know, just a few. The main one, of course…and then I'm sure the crowd, small as it is, will call for an encore after the main event. I'm guessing four."

"Right. Right, I can do this. Come on, you're coming with me."

Harry cocks an eyebrow as Draco jumps up and takes Harry's hand to pull him up as well. "Come where?"

"To get my harp, of course! There isn't one here—trust me, I know—so we have to apparate into the wardrobe at my beach house to get that one. I'm quite sure that mother left mine there, but even if she didn't, I have another one in a secret compartment in the wall."

Harry frowns. "Why are you so afraid to show people what you can do? You're a Gryffindor!"

"Ron's biggest fear in the entire world is spiders, so I think I can be afraid of playing a giant harp for a wedding for two people I barely even know."

"I'll pretend I'm not going to use that for blackmail material against your Weasel friend," Harry says, standing up in front of Draco. "Or…maybe I'll just go use it now."

Draco frowns, sitting back down. "What do you mean?"

"Tell me your secret?"

Draco's face turns bright red again. "No."

"Don't make me bring George back in here. He'd much rather listen to me than keep your secret."

The door bursts open to reveal both of the twins. "He's right," George says with a grin. "Even Fred won't be able to stop me."

"He's right, too," Fred says, pursing his lips. "He tops for a reason."

George grins, looking over at Draco. "Should I tell him, or do you want him to?"

Draco blushes again. "You tell him."

With a bright smile, George crosses the room and plops onto the bed beside Harry. "Since your boyfriend was thirteen years old, he's wanted to get his naval pierced. He wants it to be real gold, but he hasn't decided on the gem that he'll get with it yet."

Harry waits for George to continue, but when he doesn't, he bursts into laughter. "That's it?" Harry says, turning to Draco's blushing face. "You've been keeping that from me since I told you about the Hidden Tongues in the first place, and all it is is your wanting of a _bellybutton ring_?"

Draco bites on his bottom lip and nods.

Harry throws his arms around the blond, kissing the top of his head. "Draco, you idiot. You wear gold Ugg's but you're afraid that people will laugh at you for getting your naval pierced? If you had just told me I would have taken you to get one! That's nothing to be embarrassed about. Do you have any idea how much fun that would be to play with?"

Draco gives him a shy smile. "Really?"

"Yes, really, you stupid Gryffindor! I thought you were supposed to be brave! You're supposed to want everybody to see you be you, you big baby."

"Well, now that that's taken care of," George says, standing back up. "We'll be off!"

Harry stands up as the twins leave, pulling up a still quiet and somewhat embarrassed Draco. "Come on, you sodding blond. You have a lot of things to do in three hours."

_**OoOoOoO**_

_The wedding…_

Neville cranes his neck to see past all of the heads around him, just to catch a glimpse of the bride coming down the wedding aisle. Draco's cousin Remus (who everyone is calling Remmy so there's no confusion between the toddler and the werewolf) is both the Ring Barer and the "flower boy", because nobody knows where Felicia went. It put Draco and Tonks—can anybody call her that anymore after the wedding? Or will she have to go by Nymph, or Dora, or Pink-Haired-Duck-Face?—into a bit of a panic, even though Tonks isn't from their side of the family and therefore shouldn't worry about it. Then again, she _is_ a Hufflepuff…

Ginny happens to be sitting beside Neville, while Lavender is on his other side, but his fellow Slytherin is fuming that she wasn't able to play the piano for the wedding. Neville doesn't know what happened, but now there's some lovely harp music floating around. Actually, for one of the more girly instruments, Neville will happily admit it's one of the most beautiful things he's ever heard. But he doesn't have time to find out the source of it, because Tonks is coming down the aisle.

She looks so funny—yet very beautiful—in her poofy white dress, and she's even made her hair a lighter blond to match. Neville doesn't know her very well, but he has seen her around a lot, and he's used to her wearing jeans and clunky boots and leather jackets. He's used to seeing her trip over herself, but now she's walking absolutely perfect. Either she's managed to pull herself together for the happiest moment in her life, or she's so down that she has to go through with this that she couldn't possibly hype herself up enough to trip over anything. And there's no way that the latter is any sort of true. Tonks loves Lupin more than the world, and everybody can see that in her face.

Most of the wedding guests are sitting, but some of them are standing around the back and the sides. There's a lot of folk here that Neville never would have assumed would show up, including Colin Creevey and Millicent. Then again, why would Neville himself come? He barely knows anybody here. If it weren't for Lavender and George he'd be somewhere at home right now.

All of the guests listen with bated breath to the speech from the pastor—or, a more appropriate name for him, Licensed Wedding Speaker. Because it happens to be none other than Lavender's own Head of House, Minevra McGonagall. When and _why_ she ever decided to become licensed for this sort of thing is _beyond_ Neville, and he's not sure if he ever even wants to find out.

"Remus Lupin, do you take this woman," McGonagall says, motioning to Tonks, "to be your lawfully wedded wife for as long as you both shall live?"

"I do," Lupin says calmly, but Neville can see his excitement in his eyes. Neville's hardly ever seen him excited for anything, and considering that he didn't want Tonks to ever actually marry him because he wanted her to have someone better, he sure is thrilled about all of this.

McGonagall turns to Tonks. "And do you, Nymphadora"—Tonks narrows her eyes at her, but she presses on, because this is the legal way of doing things, anyway—"Tonks, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, in sickness and in health, as long as you both shall live?"

Tonks is literally bouncing up and down, now. It's not the most noticeable things, but it's hard to miss when everybody has her eye on her. "Of cour—I mean, yes, yes, I do."

McGonagall barely manages to keep herself from rolling her eyes, and after saying a few more words, she closes the book that she's reading from. "You may now kiss the bride."

The crowd bursts into cheers before their lips even meet, mainly because Tonks—Nymph?—is the one who leaps up and throws her arms around Lupin's neck in the first place.

And for the first time all night, Tonks manages to trip over her dress. Lupin catches her, and half of the crowd laughs while the other half "awwwes" that they're so perfect for each other.

"Yes, yes," Lupin says, speaking into his wand with a _sonorus_ charm. "I'd like to thank all of you for coming even in such dangerous times. For those of you who have work to do, leave whenever you will. For those of you who don't really have anything to do at all, though, Molly has been so kind as to suggest that there be at least a few songs to dance to before all of us part for our safety. No, my wife"—Tonks giggles—"and I will not be starting it. Everyone may begin at once."

And so the dance begins. Lavender pulls Neville into the middle right away, twirling around him in some sort of complicated waltz that he learns rather easily. He's good at things like this. It's a Slytherin thing.

"I do so enjoy weddings," Lavender says, leaning her head against Neville's chest. "I really do think they're perfect for each other. I admit there's a bit of an age difference, but that should never stop love. Speaking of love, Harry looks rather lon—Merlin's _beard_!"

Neville snaps his head over to where she's looking, and there's Harry, sitting at one of the chairs with a glass of something bubbly in his hands. And there, beside him, is a giant harp, being played by none other than Draco Malfoy.

Neville's jaw drops. "Draco plays the _harp_?"

Lavender pulls him off of the dance floor and over to them, where Draco is laughing happily with Harry about who knows what, and barely paying any sort of attention to his playing. It's a new song now, of course, but it's still absolutely _beautiful_, and Neville has to give him points for the fact that he's...well, not even trying. He's just that good.

"I knew it!" Lavender says, sitting down in front of Harry so Draco is forced to look at her. "Years of telling everybody that you could never do anything of talent, and here you are, on a _harp_! Honestly, Draco, are you Gryffindor or _Jigglypuff?_"

Harry snorts, but Neville and Draco just look at Lavender oddly.

"Never mind," she says, waving it off. "I can't believe you never told me, Draco. You're really, really good."

"Told you," Harry says, blowing in Draco's face.

Draco just grins, ignoring Harry as he comes to a close on his song and then instantly morphs into another one. The first was more of a slow, romance kind of thing, but now it's as upbeat as a harp can get. "It's pretty much the only thing I do during my summers," he says.

"Why?" Neville asks, looking over the instrument. There's far too much gold on it. "I mean, you're really great, but I'm just wondering."

Draco's face falls slightly, but his music doesn't falter.

Harry sets a hand on his knee and looks up at Neville. "Considering the things that are going on in his home life, there's not much else to do in the first place."

Neville coughs awkwardly. "Right, I'm gonna…uh, I'll be, um…bathroom."

Lavender rolls her eyes. "I'll see you two later." She stands up and takes Neville's hand, pulling him back to the dance floor.

"Why am I always so awkward around them?" Neville asks, frowning down at the floor.

"You're not awkward at all. You just hit a soft spot that you didn't know was there, which is perfectly alright. I do it all the t—well, _I_ don't. But other people do, and it's just a simple mistake of the human nature. Now kiss me and let's see how many whistles we get."

Neville smirks at her before leaning down.

They get four.

_**OoOoOoO**_

_July 31st…  
After the Minister has come over with Dumbledore's will and given the golden snitch to Harry (and kept the sword of Godric Gryffindor) and after Hermione has received The Tales of Beetle the Bard. His Dilluminator was never given._

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HARRY!"

Harry screams himself awake, falling off of his bed.

There's a giggle, and Harry scrambles to grab his glasses from the desk beside his bed before he glares up at the faces looking down at him that belong to Draco, Lavender, Hermione, Ron, George, and Fred. Neville is gone because something happened to his grandmum, and it wasn't until two weeks later that Harry and the others got word back that she was actually fine and the Ministry just wanted him so they could force him to go to school. The same thing happened to Millicent when she heard that her little brother was in trouble. The Ministry is trying to keep tabs on every witch and wizard in London because it's slowly being taken over by Voldemort and his followers.

"Good gods," Harry mutters, sitting up. "Are you _trying_ to give me a heart attack on my _birthday_?"

"And if we were," Ron says, "we wouldn't tell you."

"Get up, 'Ry!" Draco says, pulling Harry up. "Oh, and put your pants on."

Hermione holds out a pair of Harry's pants, looking away to make it obvious that she hasn't been looking at his underwear.

As Harry pulls them on, not giving any sort of care to Lavender (partly because she's seen Harry like this before, and mostly because he knows she doesn't care anyway), George says, "Mum made a cake for you! It's downstairs, and shaped like a Snitch. And we split ourselves into groups of two to get you some presents while you were asleep. You would not believe what's going on in Hogsmede. Terrifying, really. Anyway, you're dressed now. Come on!" He grabs Harry's wrists and pulls him along after him, and everybody else follows with bright smiles on their faces—even Hermione, and Harry's just glad that she can muster up enough excited energy for something as trivial as a seventeenth birthday.

_**XxX**_

From George and Fred, Harry gets one of those double picnic baskets filled with a can of muggle whipping cream, muggle chocolate syrup, and a jar of those sundae cherries that are really bad for you.

"So, George," Harry says, closing the basket and looking up at his family Slytherin. "What exactly did you have in mind with this? I mean, does it go on my cake? Is it an ice cream cake? Not that I don't love putting on extra pounds from cherries that probably don't taste very good anyway, but I'm a bit…um…confused."

"Good lord, Harry," George says, taking the basket and setting it on the ground. "Haven't you ever wanted to do something kind of…weird?"

Harry rolls his eyes, Hermione drops her head into her hands and groans, and Ron's ears turn bright red.

"Wait a minute," Draco says, holding his hands up. "Am I the only one that has no idea what he's talking about?"

"Draco, dear," Fred says, resting a hand on the blond's knee. "George is talking about sex."

Draco blinks at him with wide eyes. "Oh." He turns to Lavender with a grin. "This will be fun."

Lavender winks before smiling at Harry and then turning to Ron. "So what did you and Hermione get the birthday boy?"

Hermione lifts her head out of her hands wearing a bright smile. Well…kind of bright. "We got you a Magic 8 Ball!" she says as Ron pulls said object out of his cloak. "Not like one of those cheap muggle imitations, but a _real_ one. You can still only ask yes or no questions, and sometimes it doesn't really answer…but it's the best one that anyone's came up with yet, and it can be the best game at any sort of party. Like right now! Here, Ron, hand it here."

Ron hands it over to her with a bright smile—an actual bright smile—to which Hermione returns as bright as is possible for the Slytherin.

"Um…" she says, looking down at it. "Somebody give me a question."

George reaches over and takes it from her. "Is the world going to come to an end in my lifetime?" He shakes it, and when he stops he leans forward to hold it in the middle of the seven members of their circle.

There's nothing in the opening for a moment, but then a single word shimmers to the surface: YES.

"Oh," George says. "That's…comforting."

"Right," Fred says, taking the ball and handing it over to Harry. "This is yours."

Harry stares at it. "Who am—I mean, damn." He looks up at George, who looks at Fred, who looks at Draco.

"I have no idea," Fred says, reaching his hand up to his mouth to chew on his sleeve. "I hardly know him at all anymore."

"I might know him better than you even do," George says, pressing a finger to Fred's temple. "Don't move while I—on, no, I got it." He turns to Harry. "Go ahead."

Harry rolls his eyes, turning to Draco, who's staring at him like...well, anyway, he's staring at him. "I didn't want to ask a question that you didn't want asked." He looks down at the ball. "Are Draco and I going to get married some day?"

Draco giggles and leans in to see the answer, but Harry pulls away so only he can see it. If the answer isn't yes, Harry has no idea what he's going to—

YES.

Harry can't help but giggle himself, no matter how un-Slytherin-like it is. He turns to Draco, whose smile is about to leap off of his face.

"Can we choose the colour scheme now?" Draco asks, bouncing up and down on his chair.

"Drake, I think I have a bit much on my plate as it is," Harry says, setting the ball on the floor. "Let's talk about our future wedding _after_ I slaughter Voldemort."

Draco gives an enthusiastic nod. "Good idea. 'Ender, give him your half of our present first!"

The lady-Gryffindor perks up, holding up a gray bag and then handing Harry two tickets with a tiger print design. "They're tickets to the zoo, and they'll never expire!" she says, giving Harry a smirk. "Kind of random, until you see the present. Look insi—wait, wait. Do you remember Draco's cat costume from Halloween?"

Harry cocks an eyebrow. "Yes…"

"Do you like that or tigers better?"

Harry lowers his eyebrow and blinks at her. "I guess…um…tigers. I like stripes."

Lavender pulls out her wand and taps the bag, and with a slight jump it turns from simple gray to tiger print. "Okay, now it's ready. You can look inside, but don't pull anything out for Ron and Hermione's sake."

"Wait a minute," Hermione says with a frown. "Why can't _we_ see it?"

George grins. "Unless you want your eyes blinded with another se—"

Fred slams his hand over his boyfriend's mouth. "Just trust her. It's not horrible, but I really don't want to see it in—oh gods." He jumps up and runs towards the bathroom.

"What?" Harry says, looking over at George.

"He does that a lot when it comes to you guys," George says, scratching his head awkwardly. "You guys think about each other a lot, and we can usually ignore Draco's thoughts, but Harry's are…well, loud. Congratulations, Draco, for thinking louder and more intense than your boyfriend. You can open the bag now, Harry. I sort of just want to get to your cake."

Harry nods and opens up the bag, looking inside to see—

"Is that a collar?"

Draco leans over to look inside as well. "Ooh, tiger print! So that's what happened when 'Ender changed the bag design. I was wondering why that was necessary. Look, even the leash changed to match!"

"I'm not going to wear any of that eyeliner."

"_You_ wear it? Oh no, that's my job. The collar is for me, too. Chocolate syrup, on the other hand, is going in that little hallow thing at your throat—and maybe your bellybutton. Oh and I'd rather you wear that spiked collar because I'll probably end up impaling my own throat. But the handcuffs are for me, and the—"

"I'm leaving," Ron says, standing up and following in the footsteps of his brother.

Hermione rolls her eyes. "I'll see you at the cake, Harry. We may have both gotten Gryffindor's, but I got the wimp."

Draco waves goodbye. "As I was saying, the key there unlocks the handcuffs, that whip is actually for a real tiger and I'm not sure why 'Ender actually put it in there because I am _not_ going to use it, and that's a slip of paper with a few spells that turn us into animals. I mean, not animal animals. I'll just grow cat ears and a cat tail and I might possibly get some hair on my chest for the first time in my life! Also, I'll meow and stuff. So it's actually somewhat like bestiality, but I don't care."

"Actually," Lavender says, "now that I've changed it to tiger things, you'll just roar a lot. Do you want me to change the beans back to something more housecat like? It might be kind of weird to have sex with a man who roars."

Harry gives her a look. "Because putting in a circus whip is totally normal."

She grins and taps the bag with her wand, making the things inside glow somewhat before she looks back up at the boys. "I don't know, but I think you guys should just skip the cake and tell me if I shopped right—and it better be a yes, because the cashier that checked me out did _not_ know which facial expression to stick with while I was setting everything down on the counter. Apparently there aren't many people who buy pet walking supplies and handcuffs in the same trip."

When Harry looks over at Draco, the blond practically tackles him. George laughs, getting up to go after his twin without a spoken word.

"You don't have to walk," Lavender says, pushing all over Harry's presents into the bag and pushing the bag into Harry's hands again as Draco shoves his tongue into Harry's mouth. "There are no wards against apparition when you're _inside_ of this house."

The next thing Harry knows, he's in the bedroom that he's sharing with Draco and Ron. He casts locking and silencing charms as Draco literally tears his clothes off, pushing him down onto the bed without a second between the finishing of setting up the wards.

"Do you realize," Draco growls, pushing his face into the crook at Harry's shoulder and biting the skin, "that we haven't been able to do something like this since the beach house?"

"Oh, I noticed alright," Harry says, using his wand to unravel all of Draco's clothes and pile up their threads on the floor. Draco would usually frown at Harry for destroying his clothes, but right now the blond completely ignores it.

"Are we actually going to use your presents?" Draco asks, pulling his lips back to Harry's.

Harry doesn't answer for a moment, under the circumstances that Draco is sucking on his tongue, but when he can he breathes, "Oh yeah. Have a preference?"

"Would it be weird if you handcuffed your pet tiger to the bed and then ate a sundae without the ice cream off of his stomach that may or may not have some fuzz on it?"

Harry grins up at him. "Kinky."

_**OoOoOoO**_

Barely ten minutes later, Draco is writhing. They decided against the spells to make Draco catlike, but he is indeed handcuffed to the middle of the headboard with the tiger-print collar around his neck. There's a small mountain of whip cream in the middle of Draco's stomach, complete with strips of chocolate syrup and the cherry on top. Well…the cherry's not there anymore because Harry ate it. And he also licked up the syrup he had pooled into the hallow of Draco's throat.

"Really brings back memories, doesn't it?" Harry asks, dipping his tongue into Draco's naval.

The Gryffindor barely hears him, let alone is able to answer him. Aside from the fact that Harry's mouth is all over his stomach, his right hand is between Draco's legs and the index finger of his left hand is in Draco's mouth.

"The first day of sixth year," Harry continues, licking up the last trace of whip cream from Draco's pretty-much hairless stomach and chest. "When I had you tied to that old red couch. You were writhing for me then, too."

Draco moans around Harry's fingers. He's going to blow in a couple of seconds. He doesn't want that. He wants Harry inside of him first.

"Ha—Harry," he whimpers. "Not…not yet."

Harry pulls all three appendages from Draco at once, and Draco opens his eyes to see his green-eyed beauty grinning at him. "Remember the first time we made love?" he asks, shifting his naked body over to straddle Draco's stomach, his cock flopped out and practically pulsing over the pale skin. "You told me that you were going to top me so hard that I wouldn't know what hit me for days, and that I would be sore all over and I wouldn't regret a single bit of it."

Draco whimpers again, spreading his legs as much as he can to feel Harry's arse just _barely_ grazing his cock.

"You were right," Harry whispers, raking his nails ever so slightly down Draco's chest and over his hardened nipples, causing Draco to suck in a wavered breath. "I didn't regret a single bit. But let me tell you one thing." He leans his mouth down to Draco's ear and nibbles lightly on his earlobe. "You may have topped hard—and you did, trust me, you did—but you will never be in comparison to the way that I am going to take you right now. I'll top, and I'll top you so hard you won't know what's hit you for days. You'll be sore all over, and _you won't regret a single bit of it_."

Harry sticks three of the fingers of his right hand into his own mouth, lathering them with his spit. Leaning up to stare Draco dead in the eyes, he shifts until he's able to reach below Draco. He coats his entrance with his saliva, causing Draco's breath to hitch—but the blond manages to keep his eyes open, making sure that he continues to stare down into Harry's eyes as well.

His Slytherin winks before sticking in two fingers at once, causing Draco to cry out only just. They already refreshed the silencing and locking charms once, so they know they're safe for when either of them cry out even more so later. The two fingers slide in and out, sticking him and scissoring him. He only adds the third for a moment, and then he pulls them out to lean up and press his mouth to Draco's. His tongue fights its way into the entirety of Draco's mouth, wrapping around the other tongue and sucking it out before letting go to let Harry stare heatedly down at the Gryffindor.

"You are the sexiest, most beautiful, most _fuckable_ being I have ever seen or heard of," Harry says, his voice a husky growl. He grabs his wand off the little dresser beside the bed and, as he grinds his arse between Draco's legs, causing Draco to moan loudly, he whispers the lubricant spells so that it squirts out into his palm. "I love you," he says, rubbing it between his palms before reaching behind himself to, with his right hand again, coat the outside and just on the inside of Draco's rings. "I can't _wait_ to marry you," he whispers, using his left hand to coat his own cock with the rest of the lube.

Draco bites onto his bottom lip and whimpers, dropping his eyes from Harry's eyes to watch Harry slick himself. Precum drips from the head and onto Draco's stomach, right where a pile of whip cream had only recently been before Harry had licked it clean.

When Harry is finally done lathering himself, he pushes himself down Draco, winking to make it obvious that he's pressing his arse against Draco's cock on purpose. He positions himself under Draco, the blond hitched up for the best possible access.

And then he's pushing himself inside, his fingernails digging into Draco's side as he pounds into Draco instantly—there's absolutely no mercy, no matter how loudly Draco is crying out. But he doesn't care. In fact, he loves it. But…

"Harry," he moans, his eyes closed and head tilted back. "My hands, Harry."

Draco doesn't care enough to find out how, but the handcuffs release him, and Draco's hands are instantly flailing out. He drops his elbows to the bed to left himself up and slam back into his boyfriend, both of them crying out in ecstasy.

Harry unlatches a hand from Draco's side to reach out and grab his collar, arching his neck up and leaning down to press his lips hard to Draco's mouth. Draco arches his back up, his cock pressing hard between his and Harry's stomachs as Harry reaches up his other hand to lightly trace at Draco's nipples. The blond moans, reaching back to Harry's arse to grip tight, molding his fingers into the cheeks and helping him slam into Draco even harder.

Harry moans, tangling his fingers into Draco's hair and gripping, pulling slightly. Draco drops one hand from Harry's backside to the cock between their stomachs. The Slytherin pulls back just enough to watch him, his eyes dark and filled with lust and a wild, fervent love.

"Gods, Harry, _fuck me_!" Draco screams, abandoning his own rock-hard shaft to grip onto Harry again.

The black-haired man pounds harder, deeper, faster, his glasses long ago abandoned on the little dresser where is wand is resting. They fixed his eyes just long enough for this so that he wouldn't have to wear them during this to see. His bangs are plastered to his face, his scar showing brightly.

And then they're both there, screaming each others names and clawing at each other and as high as they'll ever be. Draco's spunk coats their stomachs together, and Harry's embeds itself deep inside of his blond.

Harry collapses onto Draco, and Draco wraps his arms around Harry and refuses to let him pull out.

"I love you, Drake," Harry whispers, bringing his lips up to Draco's.

"I love you too, 'Ry," Draco says. "You're amazing. That was amazing. I'm never letting you go."

Harry smiles against Draco's mouth and tangles both hands into the blond hair. "Never."

* * *

A/N: 1. So, uh, Draco's biggest secret ever? Bit of a letdown, I know. But I couldn't think of anything else because I had already put in all of his "I'll never tell anybody my biggest secret" thoughts and I didn't think of the actual secret until just now. So whatever; it's not really an important part of the story anyway!

2. _George reaches over and takes it from her. "Is the world going to come to an end in my lifetime?" He shakes it, and when he stops he leans forward to hold it in the middle of the seven members of their circle._

_There's nothing in the opening for a moment, but then a single word shimmers to the surface: YES._

It's really subtle, but the Ball is actually saying that _George's_ world will end. Because Fred dies (yeah, yeah, I stick to all of the deaths, I'm sorry). The Ball answers to your mind, so it automatically changes George's question to "is _my_ world going to end", which it will because his brother/boyfriend/whatever dies.


	26. The Summer Before 7th Year, Part II

**The Summer Before Seventh Year, Part II: What the Wilderness May Do**

Beginning chapter A/N's: This chapter is dedicated to cats because I just really fucking like cats okay.

* * *

"_The Ministry has fallen. The Minister of Magic is dead. They are coming. They are coming._"

The wedding erupts into chaos, and Harry didn't even have time to finish his second dance with his boyfriend.

But then Hermione is there, Harry and Draco's Glimmer Bag around her shoulder. She has Remmy on her hip, and Lavender is beside her.

"Take his hands!" she commands the girl.

Lavender takes Draco's, and Hermione takes Harry's, and then Lavender grips tightly a hold of Hermione's shoulder.

And then they're gone, apparated away.

They appear in the middle of a muggle sidewalk, and Hermione instantly starts talking again: "Lav, take Rem," she says, handing the child to Lavender, who takes him instantly and without question. "We'll meet you at you-know-where."

"Right," Lavender says. Draco's hand is still in hers, and Remus wraps his arms around her neck.

And then Hermione is taking Harry's hand, pulling them in the opposite direction as the other three.

"Hermione," Harry says, "What are we—"

"No time!" she says, holding tight to both him and the Glimmer Bag. "We have to change!"

"Change? Change wh—"

She suddenly pulls him headlong into a deserted alleyway, and then uses her wand to put up a muggle repelling ward so nobody walks in after them.

From the Bag she pulls out a pair of muggle jeans, a t-shirt, and tennis shoes.

"Change," she says. "And don't complain about the lack of privacy. Nobody can see past the ward, and I don't _want_ to see. Go."

Harry sighs, but does what she says without question. He knows how this stuff works, and Hermione seems to have a plan, at any rate.

When he's changed, he looks up to see Hermione changed as well, out of her dress and heels and into something more like Harry is wearing now.

"When did you—" Harry starts, but she cuts him off:

"Time for questions later. Old clothes here." She holds up the Bag, and Harry stuffs his and her old clothes inside the never-ending space. As he does, she does a sort of...chant thing: "Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldy-Voldy-Voldemort." Then she slings the Bag back over her shoulder, and before Harry has any time to ask what on earth she was doing, she takes down the ward and runs out. "There!" she says, pointing at a coffee shop a few stores down.

They run to it, nearly knocking over multiple people in there mad dash. Harry wishes he knew why it was so important to run to this place. They're far away from the party; isn't it safe enough now?

"Can I ask questions now?" Harry asks as they sit down at the table farthest from the window.

"Two coffees, black!" she calls to the woman behind the counter. "Wait one more minute," she says, scanning the window across from them. "They should be here any—"

The door jingles open, and in walk two men Harry remembers from fourth year, at the cemetery when Voldemort came back.

In less than a second, Hermione's wand is out and she's shouting a volley of spells. The men barely have time to look up at them, let alone block more than the first one.

Harry looks at the counter to see the girls face, but she's not there. He sees her through the window in the back, headphones in, not having a clue what's just happened. When he turns back around, Hermione is at the two men, obliviating them. And then she's levitating them up and over to the men's bathroom.

"Hermione!" Harry says. "People will s—"

"No, I put wards on the windows. You can't see wizards through them. I have this all planned out, Harry. It's what I do."

She closes the bathroom door, and then uses the most difficult locking charm Harry has ever heard of in his life.

"Come on," she says, reaching out to take Harry's hand. "We have to get to Grimmauld place. We have three waiting on us, and you're the only one that can get us in."

"HERMIONE."

She stops, staring at him.

"I am not taking one more step before you tell me what's going on," Harry says, chest heaving. "I don't care what we have to do, or where we have to get, or whatever. Tell me."

She sighs before launching right into the explanation: "We came here to change and to throw the Death Eater's off our scent, which is why I was chanting the name of You-Know-Who. Do _not_ say his real name or they'll find us again, because it's been tabooed. Now we're going to Sirius' house—I mean, your house because that's where we're going to meet up with Lavender and the other two. Your house is the only safe place that we have to go."

Harry takes in a deep breath, nodding. "Alright. Thank you. I'm ready to go, now."

Hermione rolls her eyes and holds out her hand.

Taking her hand, the two Slytherin's apparate themselves to the pavement in front of Harry's house.

"What a weird feeling," he says, pulling out his wand. "Knowing that this is mine, I mean. The house and Kreacher and everything else that's inside. Well, Kreacher is still at Hogwarts, but you get the concept."

Hermione purses her lips. "They should have been here by now…" she says, completely ignoring Harry for the millionth time tonight.

"Turn around, both of you," a new voice says.

Harry and Hermione whirl around, wands drawn, to see Lavender, Draco, and little Remus.

"Insanity is inherited…" Lavender says, staring with wide eyes at Hermione.

The brown-eyed Slytherin smiles. "You get it from your kids!"

Lavender smiles as well before looking down at Remus in her arms. "Remember the password thing I told you about? Tell Harry something that only he would know. Go on."

Remus looks over at Harry with the sort of shy, hesitant smile that only a child can give. And maybe Draco. "You…you said you hated him. You said he helped kiwl the only man who had no fawlts in yowr eyes."

Harry sees Draco's face fall, but he pretends that he doesn't. "Yeah, that's really Remus. But not anymore. I want you to know that I still love him to death."

"Your turn, Draco," Lavender says.

Harry turns to Draco's face, which has perked up a bit. "Uh, um, jogging. You asked me about jogging."

Harry laughs. "And you looked at me absolutely appalled and said that sweating creates zits."

Lavender smiles. "Well, that settles that. We're all who we look like we are."

Harry launches across the space between them and throws his arms around Draco.

"I don't know what's going on," Draco says, wrapping his arms around the Slytherin, "but at least I'm with you."

Harry smiles, pulling away so he can pull his wand out to get into his house. "Come on, Hermione will explain everything as soon as we're inside.

_**OoOoOoO**_

_A long while later, before they have any sort of clue of what to do about getting horcruxes…_

Draco is sprawled out across Harry's chest on their bed in the room they decided to stay in while at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. Apparently this placed used to belong to Harry's godfather before he died in Harry's fifth year.

"Tell me a story," Draco says as Harry doodles absentmindedly on his back.

"A story?" Harry asks.

Draco looks up at Harry with a smile to see his green-eyed man smiling back down. "Yes," he says. "One about you and all of your adventures."

Harry puts on a thinking sort of face. "One with brave Toa heroes and—"

"Brave _what_?"

"Um, never mind. Does it have to be completely original?"

"Well…no, but make sure it's some muggle thing so I have no idea what you're talking about."

Harry grins. "Once upon a time there was a man so handsome, so beautiful, that he was locked up in a tower because the entire kingdom was so jealous of him."

"So far this story seems sad…"

"Shush and let me finish."

"Alright, alright."

"As I was saying, the man was locked in a tower. And his name was as free as his dragon spirit, but as changed as his human body. Draco."

Draco rolls his eyes. "Dragon spirit. I get it."

Harry just smiles. "One day, a wizard with eyes of emerald green and hair as black as the wings of a raven was on a mission for his nobleman. On his jet black broom he held his—wait, brooms don't have reigns. On his horse as black as the night itself, he held his green and silver reigns as he rode through the forest, and he managed to stumble onto the tower. This man was nearly as handsome as the first, but not quite! Harry Potter was his name, and _not_ to be mistaken for fuzzy ceramics."

Draco giggles.

"The wizard was enthralled at his findings. 'Could this possible be the great tower in which the famous Draco Malfoy is locked?' the wizard thought. He had to find out, of course, so he scaled the wall with his magical powers.

"Once through the open window, he saw that the tower room looked devoid of any sort of life. There was furniture and whatnot, but the beautiful man was not there. 'Hello?' called the wizard. 'I've come to rescue the Draco of this tower!'

"'Rescue?' asked a voice. A voice that played like gold through the wizard's ears, and music of the harp through his heart. 'Why would anyone rescue _me_? You all locked me up here, didn't you?'

"'Not I,' said the wizard. 'I am just passing through, and I thought the world deserved to gaze upon you again.' At this, the voice dropped down from the rafters, causing the wizard to gasp. There before him was a man that _deserved_ the title of being most beautiful. His skin was pale, like white peaches." Harry's hand trails into Draco's hair. "His hair was like white silk, washed and hung to dry in blond." His fingers trace around to the underside of Draco's eyes. "His eyes like gray little stones, left to sparkle in the sun until they turned into stars." His hand trails around and down Draco's bicep. "Arms like that of a true Quidditch Seeker, thin to be swift and toned to catch." It trails underneath the blankets as far as they can, to Draco's thigh. "Legs like a runner, light for being swift and strong to ride his Seeker's broom." His hand reaches up to twin into one of Draco's. "His hands smaller than the hands of the wizard, but just the right size to be held against the wizard's heart. And the fingertips were calloused from playing all day long the golden harp."

Draco's smiling too brightly to mention the fact that Harry just made himself rhyme.

"'That's all?' asked the beautiful man. 'You're only here so the world can remember my beauty? You're not even here just to see me yourself?'

Draco sits up, causing Harry to pause. "'Oh, but I am here to see you for myself,'" he says, pretending to be the wizard in Harry's story. "'I'm here to ravish you, if you'll let me.'

"'Of course I'll let you,' says the man. 'I'll let you do anything you want to me. I've been waiting for you for a long, long time, you know.'"

Harry smiles up at Draco, letting him go on with the story.

"So the man takes the wizard and takes him to the bed, lying him down on his back before crawling in on top of him." Draco sits up even more so that he can crawl fully on top of Harry, his legs straddling the Slytherin, his arse on Harry's stomach but slowly sliding back to his cock.

Harry licks his lips.

"'What do you want me to do to you?' the man asks the wizard."

"Anything," Harry says.

Draco smirks, enjoying the fact that he's effectively ended Harry's part of the storytelling.

He bends down to hover his lips above Harry's. "The man decides to start with a kiss."

Draco presses his lips down, sucking in Harry's bottom lip.

"But he decides that's too boring," Draco whispers, trailing a finger down Harry's chest.

Draco doesn't even get his hand to Harry's crotch. His green-eyed man reaches up and pulls Draco's head back down so that their lips once again meet, his tongue instantly darting into Draco's mouth.

Draco sucks on Harry's tongue, finishing his way down to Harry's crotch and ghosting his hand across the erection there.

Harry sputters a moan into Draco's mouth and reaches up to Draco's chest, grating his nails lightly over his nipples before moving down to squeeze his arse.

He pulls his mouth away and buries his face in the crook of Draco's neck. "And then the beautiful man leaned in to the wizard's ear and whispers two words to him: 'Have me'."

Draco moans as Harry bites at his skin, ready for anything to happen to him.

He's suddenly on his back, Harry above him with his wand out and whispering the words to the lubricant spell.

_He's getting rather good at this_, Draco thinks with a dreamy smile.

_**OoOoOoO**_

Harry stares Draco dead in the eyes as he pushes into him, and Draco pulls the Slytherin down so that their lips meet in a clashing of tongues and teeth.

"Harry," Draco moans, rolling both boys onto their sides as Harry continues to pump.

"I love you, Draco," Harry says, lashing his tongue out to the hallow of Draco's throat. "And I love that two people from opposite Houses can work together so perfectly."

Harry rolls onto his back so that Draco is now on top, leaning up and pushing himself back down so that Harry is still moving inside of him.

"Fuck," Draco whispers, eyes dark and voice husky.

"That's right," Harry whispers, slamming his hips up every time that Draco slams down.

When he rolls Draco back onto his back, he wraps both of his arms around his Gryffindor's neck, sticking his tongue into his open mouth. Draco pulls it in and sucks it down, one of his hands reaching back to make Harry moan as his fingers trace his entrance.

Harry knows exactly where Draco's other hand is, so he pulls his mouth away from Draco's to drop his head and watch his blond handle himself, gripping and pumping to get to the point where he can let go at the same time as Harry.

Harry unwraps one of his arms from Draco's neck and reaches down to wrap it around Draco's hand, helping him reach the top.

Harry knows they're both nearing as he begins to pump into Draco faster, causing the hand at his arse to slip away. But suddenly it's back, a single finger pushing inside.

Harry loses it inside of his blond, calling Draco's name while his Gryffindor moans incoherently as he and Harry pump him dry between their bellies, coating themselves with cum.

Harry finishes before Draco, and he just watches Draco's face change to satisfied as they stroke him, his eyes tightly shut and his mouth _so_ inviting.

When his eyes finally open, Harry smiles before completely collapsing beside his beautiful man, all of his energy sapped. Draco crawls lazily onto him, back in the position that they ended up sleeping in after the sex from the night before.

"You're amazing, you know?" Draco says dreamily, tracing his fingers over Harry's face. Harry relishes the feeling, his eyes closed. "You and your lips and your nose and your eyes and your lightning bolt scar."

Harry opens his eyes and smiles. "The scar's not that great, but thanks."

Draco frowns. "Where'd you get that, anyway? I've never asked you before."

Harry blinks at him. "You're kidding. You have _got_ to be kidding me."

"I…no, I'm not. It's…never really come up, I guess. I see you wince and touch it sometimes, but I try to just shut up then because I've had some pretty bad headaches before."

Harry shakes his head in disappointment. "Unbelievable. I got it from You-Know-Who when he killed my parents."

"Well _duh_. I meant why you wince in the first place."

"Merlin, Drake, you gave _no_ such indication to that being your question. It allows me to channel You-Know-Who, kind of. I know whenever he has really intense feelings for something, which is why I wince, because it shoots through my skin. It's also the reason that I can talk to snakes."

Draco sits up so fast that, if it had been Harry sitting up, he would have lain right back down. His eyes are bugged out and he's pulling his hand up to his mouth.

"Hey." Harry pushes himself up on his elbows. "What's wrong?"

"No," his blond whispers, shaking his head back and forth. "You can't be."

Harry frowns. "You may be traumatized, and I may love you, but I'm going to hit you if you leave me in the dark any longer."

"You told me about the horcruxes," he whispers, his voice even then slightly cracking. "But the only thing that you said about what they _were_ was that the seven that exist need to be destroyed so you can kill the Dark Lord!"

"Well, yeah, that's all that I know…" Harry pushes himself up from his elbows to his hands. "What are you trying to say?"

"Harry, I've known about the horcruxes my entire _life_! I don't know what all of them are or all of the ways to destroy them, but I know what they _really_ are! I know what they _do_!"

Harry's eyes widen. "Now I _know_ you're not kidding."

"No. No, I'm not. They're part of the Dark Lord—_part_ of his soul. You learned from Dumbledore how they're made, but you didn't know where the bits of his soul went. What they did was go into the objects that you're trying to find."

Harry's jaw drops. "Draco! You're a genius! That doesn't get us any closer to finding them, I don't think, but every bit of knowledge brings us a step up for our side!"

Draco's face falls again. "No, 'Ry. It does bring us closer… We did find one."

Harry frowns. "What…what do you mean?"

"Harry, it's…it's you."

As Harry stares at Draco, everything about him begins to fail. First his lungs, because he can't breathe anymore. Then his hearing, because he can no longer hear Draco telling him that it will be okay and that they'll find a way for him to survive. Lastly his eyesight, because he can't see Draco's attempts to get him to start breathing right again.

What's the point? Harry has to die anyway. The only reason that he has to survive is to find the horcruxes, kiss Draco goodbye, and finally to be killed by Voldemort in the end. It's like Dumbledore was raising him like a pig for slaughter… Not that it matters. Harry would have died of old age eventually, and how boring is that?

If Harry could breathe, he'd sigh. That's his old mindset. _Fuck it, I'm going to die anyway. Might as well go out with a bang._ Bloody parents being Gryffindor and passing down those damn brave genes.

A few minutes later, all of Harry's senses come back in the opposite way that he lost them. Draco has tears in his eyes and his hands are holding onto Harry's face.

"We have to tell the others," Harry whispers.

"No!" Draco says, voice cracking. "We can't tell them. Not yet. Lavender will drop everything about the other horcruxes to keep you alive, and Hermione will…will…actually, I don't much know what she'll do. Something cool and collected for her being Slytherin, and brilliant for the part of her that is the smartest in our year."

"Just because she's Slytherin doesn't mean she doesn't fall apart sometimes. I mean, look at me. I just did some sort of black-out _thing_."

"That's because you're going to _die_, 'Ry! Besides, your second House is Gryffindor, just like my second is Slytherin."

Harry cocks an eyebrow. "Is it?"

Draco hits his shoulder. "Yes it is and you know it! Come on, you know I can be…pretty mean, when I need to be."

"_All_ Gryffindor's can be mean even when they _don't_ need to be, Draco. Now come with me to go tell Hermione and Lavender that I have to die." His voice cracks on the last word.

"Harry, _no_," Draco says forcefully, pulling the Slytherin to his chest. "We'll tell them later. Right now let's…I don't know, pretend that everything is okay."

Harry does sigh, now. "Tell me what else you know about the horcruxes. Like, which ones you know are what."

"I only know five of them, four of which you already know," Draco says, pulling away to look at Harry's face. "One is Tom Riddle's diary, but you destroyed that in second year, another is Marvolo Gaunt's ring, but Dumbledore got that one in sixth year, and then there's you. The fourth is the locket, and if I had known what exactly we were dealing with here I could have told you that it's around the neck of the most _adored_"—Harry can practically smell Draco's sarcasm—"Dolores Jane Umbridge, who's somewhere at the Ministry. And the last is the very ancient and sort of lost Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw, which is only sort of lost because I happen to know that it's somewhere inside of the Hogwarts castle."

"That part we have to tell the girls."

"And that part I happen to agree with very much. Let's shower and dress before we grace them with our presence, though."

"Splendid idea, my love."

"You know, for a Slytherin who's going to sacrifice himself to save the world, you certainly don't _seem_ distressed at all."

Harry shrugs. "Boyfriend of the son of a Death Eater, it happens."

Draco punches him in the shoulder.

"Ow! For someone who's going to lose said boyfriend, you sure don't _seem_ distressed at all."

Draco starts crying again.

_**XxX**_

_Arriving in the Forest of Dean from their break-in of Ministry…_

"Harry. James. _Potter_!" Hermione screams as she, Harry, and Draco come out of their apparition in a forest. She opens her mouth to continue, but quick shuts it and turns to send of her tiger shark patronus to (most likely) Lavender to tell her to quick get her and Remus out of there and over to here. _Then_ she turns back to Harry to continue her screaming, the locket around her neck swaying as she spins so quickly: "If it weren't for you _bloody_ boyfriend, everything would have gone _fine_! I told you to leave him behind with Lavender and the child! Damn stupid Gryffindor's and their—"

"Draco didn't do _anything_!" Harry snaps back, reaching out for Draco's hand with one of his. "It was _your_ plan that didn't end right."

"_My_ plan called for _two_ people! Not two and one _tagalong_!"

"Draco is _not_ a bloody taga—"

Harry cuts himself off when there's a crack beside the three of them, and Lavender appears with Remus in her arms and both of her and Draco and Harry's Glimmer Bags over one of her shoulders.

"Dear sweet Merlin and his wives and his beard and even his underwear!" she growls. "We could hear your bickering before we even landed! Both of you shut up about what went wrong and tell me what _all_ happened."

Draco starts talking before Harry or Hermione get the chance: "We got the locket, but I'm pretty sure I gave some lady a heart attack when I wasn't her husband anymore, and then someone grabbed my shoe when we were apparating away and he saw that we were staying at…well, where we were. So now where stuck in the middle of nowhere, I think."

Lavender sighs. "Alright, no down time. The tent's in here…" She shrugs off her Glimmer Bag and tosses it to Harry. "And the sleeping bags are in here." She tosses the other to Draco. "We'll condense and organize after we settle down. Hermione, you're on wards. I'll help Draco because he looks like he's about to cry because his boyfriend's best girl-space-friend hates his guts. Oh, Harry, don't give me that look and set up the damn tent."

Harry frowns. Has he ever heard Lavender do any sort of cussing? This must be how stressed she can possible be when her Glimmer Bag colour is lavender.

"SHUT. UP!" Hermione screams at Draco's tears from where she's setting up the wards.

"Come here, Drake," Harry says, letting Draco fall falls into his arms.

"I told you she's mean," he whimpers.

"She's not _so_ bad…" Harry says, kissing the top of Draco's head.

Draco looks up and frowns at him.

"Okay, so she's horrible. But she's also wearing the locket, and it affects your mood a lot, so we'll all have to start taking turns wearing it."

"Stop talking about me!" Hermione snaps, suddenly beside them. "And get back to work! We need to hurry up and plan!"

Harry rolls his eyes and Draco just leans his head back against Harry's chest.

_**XxX**_

_The same time in which Ron would have left if this was the actual book…_

"I can't _stand_ it anymore!" Draco suddenly yells from his bed, causing Harry to jump slightly from his spot at the table. "We're not getting _anywhere_!"

"We're trying, Draco," Hermione says quietly. She's perfectly fine when she doesn't have the locket on, because when Draco is wearing the locket—which he's doing right now—he's about twice as bad as she is, and she knows it, so she tries to be nice to keep him calm. "Did you honestly expect that we'd be home by Christmas?" Well, as nice as she _can_ be.

"No, I just assumed we'd have destroyed at least _one_ of these bloody things." He looks down at the locket around his neck. "Don't you have any _better_ ideas than sitting around and doing nothing, Harry?"

Harry sighs. "I've told you, Draco, we're all just as lost as you are." Draco mutters something under his breath, and Harry narrows his eyes. "Do share with us your thoughts, Draco," he says darkly.

Draco frowns at him. "I _said_ that you have no idea what you're _doing_."

"Right, like you have any idea of what _you're_ doing!"

"Well _I'm_ the one that knew all about the horcruxes!"

"Only because you're the son of a dead fucking Death Eater!"

"_Harry_!" Lavender screeches as Draco recoils as though he's been slapped. "That's _way_ too far!"

"Shut up, 'Ender," Draco snaps. "I can handle my own boyfriend by my_self_, thank you very much." He turns back to Harry. "Speaking of boyfriends, you sure are treating yours just _splendid_!"

Harry rolls his eyes. "You started it."

"_I_ started it? _You're_ the one that got all snappy!"

"_Me_? _You're_ the one that brought this whole—oh, fuck this."

"Right, 'cause we've been doing _so_ much of that."

"_Now_ you're complaining about our _sex life_? We're jumping from forest to forest, you sodding idiot! Not to _mention_ the two women that we're sharing a tent with. Like we _actually_ have time to shove our cocks up the others arse." Harry ignores the faces of said women listen to every wordy of their argument.

"This is not just about sex," Draco growls. "We've barely touched each other."

"Considering that we've hardly gotten anything done since being out here, maybe that's a good thing."

Draco frowns. "Boyfriends are supposed to make things better, not more difficult."

"Yeah, well, congratulations on being one of the men that puts difficult as the first word in the dictionary."

Draco's jaw drops. "Why am I even here? Tell me that, Harry, when I'm obviously just getting in your way." He's fuming, and Harry wishes he had just kept his mouth shut and let Draco vent, because he knew that it was just the locket. He knew that Draco wouldn't really say those things.

But he had, and so had Harry, and here they are now. Lavender is lounging angrily on one of the beds, Remus is sleeping between her legs, and Hermione is sitting at the table across from Harry.

"Because I _love_ you," Harry says. That always calms Draco down. "Because I can't do this without you. I don't care if you're in the way or not, because I'm even in my _own_ way. Hermione and Lavender are the only ones here that are able to keep all of this going! But you're here because I love you, Drake. Please calm down."

"Yeah?" Draco says, licking his lips and crossing his arms. "Why?"

"Why should you calm down? Because if you don't then some—"

"No, I don't care if I need to calm down," Draco snaps. "Why do you love me?"

Harry's eyes narrow. He's questioning it? After all of this, he's _questioning_ Harry's love for him? "I don't know, dammit, I just do!"

Draco leaps up, but then freezes. "You. Don't. Know?" he asks, calm but staccato.

"Draco, the locket," Lavender quick interjects. "Take it off. Now."

"You think this is the locket?" Draco screeches. He yanks it over his head and chucks it across the tent at Harry's feet, where it piles up unhappily. "There! It's off! Tell me again, Harry. Why do you love me? Maybe I'll take it lighter this time."

Harry looks down at his hands. He hasn't done that in so long…neither has Draco. He remembers that his blond did it to remind him of all the things he had done and learned.

"I don't know," Harry whispers.

"What's that?" Draco asks. "I can't hear you. You've got to speak up."

"I don't know!" Harry screams, leaping up.

Hermione closes her eyes, Lavender flinches, and Draco recoils like he's been slapped again. Harry slowly lowers himself back down, doing his best not to cry. He knows that he loves Draco—he knows it. You don't go through things like they've been through just for the sex at the end. But Harry can't think of why right now, even though he knows there are reasons. He knows what it's like to live without Draco, and he knows that he couldn't stand doing it every again.

Harry remembers when he first saw Draco on the train, and all he wanted to do was hold his hand. Second year he didn't tell Hermione, Neville, or Greg which abandoned classroom that he was hiding in. Third year he couldn't stop himself from dropping to Draco's side to make sure he was okay, and then he had to quick make some excuse. Fourth year he had to make absolute sure that he never ran into Draco while alone, or he would have for sure asked the blond to the Yule Ball when him. And then there was the Triwizard Tournament, when Draco ended up at Harry's side to see if "Cedric" was okay. And then fifth year…the first kiss.

After all this time, neither of them gave up. Well, not technically. Draco was sort of a baby about it at first, but he came to his senses quick enough. But Harry never even faltered, because he loved the blond before they even spoke. He loved him from afar, watching and waiting for a moment to strike like a desert cobra.

That's why he can't think of a reason for loving the blond. He never had real reasons to begin with.

"You don't know," Draco repeats quietly, looking Harry dead in the eyes. "Fine. If that's it's going to be." Draco pulls out his wand and, with a single flick of his wrist, makes everything that belongs to he and Remus fly into his Glimmer Bag. "I'm leaving, and I'm taking the toddler with me. Oh, and one more thing…" He shoves his wand into his back pocket and looks down at his left hand.

Harry's eyes widen. Draco wouldn't. He couldn't possible—

Draco yanks the ring off of his finger. The one with the emerald that Harry got from Borgin and Burke's.

"And take your bloody present back," he yells, throwing it at the same spot as the locket. It's smaller, though, and it bounces somewhere underneath the table with a _tink_.

Draco summons the first Glimmer Bag he sees to his shoulder—Lavender's—and that's when something in Harry cracks. He leaps up, knocking over the bench behind him.

Draco doesn't pay him any attention as he gathers the sleeping Remus into his arms.

"Drake, you can't!" Harry says, diving underneath the table to look for the ring.

"Watch me," Draco snaps back. Harry hears him walk outside through the tent flaps.

Shoving the ring into his pocket, Harry leaps up to run after him—to beg him to anything—but Lavender is blocking his path, all of her own things piled into her arms.

"I don't know what's going on inside of that Slytherin head of yours," she says darkly, "but you've done enough. Sit down, shut up, and don't try to follow us."

Hermione's jaw drops. "But you can't go with him!"

Lavender smirks as she walks towards the tent exit. "He'll get himself killed without me."

When she leaves, Hermione doesn't even hesitate to get up and run out after them.

Harry can't hear specific words, but he can tell that Hermione is furiously trying to get them to stay.

But he does hear one thing from Draco before the crack of disapparation:

"I don't care if all's fair in love and war! Harry doesn't even know which one this is! Come on, Laven—"

And for just a moment, there's absolute silence.

"They're gone," Hermione says quietly once she's walked back inside the tent.

Harry is instantly up and pushing past her, out into the chill air. His tears are nearly freezing to his face, casting a glossy sheen on his cheeks. He stumbles through the woods until he stops at a random tree, sitting down in front of it to sob to himself.

"Don't worry," Hermione whispers, suddenly appearing and sitting down beside him, effectively ending his being by himself. "He'll be back." She wraps her arms around him, and he leans into her. "And when he does, we'll have a whole list of reasons why you love him, just waiting to be read. How's that sound?"

Harry looks up at her, and at her smile, he has to nod. Draco is wrong. Hermione isn't mean at all—at least, not to anybody in her House. Kind of like a really awkward mother, maybe. Either way, Harry's glad he has her. If she hadn't been in their little band, he would be all alone right now. Because Remus is Draco's cousin and Lavender is his best friend, and Harry's _just Harry_.

* * *

References: 1. The passwords between Hermione and Lavender ("_Insanity is inherited…you get it from your kids!_") I didn't actually make up, sadly. I heard it from my Bible History professor, though I have no idea where he got it from either :P

/

A/N: 1. Yes, I've watched all of the Bionicle (though I'm pretty sure I just spelt that wrong) movies and read some of the comic book things that you get in the Lego magazines. I know what a Toa is and all about the Mask of Light. Nerd and proud! :D

2. A lot of things get pretty confusing here. I mean, not the part of the plot that I've made up, but that part that I have to incorporate into here to make sure that Harry gets to come back to life and why Lucius had a ball of light fall out of his mouth and when Lavender became "friends" with Snape and yada, yada, yada. So if anything is kind of awkward, remember that I'm not JK Rowling and I will most certainly not have the plan thought out as perfectly as she. Sadly. Haha.


	27. Year 7, Part I

**Seventh Year, Part I: Common Sense**

Beginning chapter A/N's: This chapter is dedicated to you. There's no real reason for it to be, but just because you have stuck with me this long…well, I'm extremely thankful for that. Thank you so much for reading my story and for any of you who have reviewed/will review/whatever. I love you so much and it's just great ^-^

* * *

_Two weeks later…_

"Are you sure they won't kill me?" Lavender asks quietly, tugging at the collar of her elaborate gray dress. Draco is in an all black suit, and Remus isn't with them. Draco and Lavender had dropped him off at Aunt Andromeda's, where Draco's mother was in hiding. Ted had died. Draco didn't' know how, and he didn't want to find out at the time. And Lavender told him about Snape, and how he's not a real Death Eater. How he's only pretending, and that it was Dumbledore who asked to be killed. It was the happiest Draco had been in weeks when she told him.

Now the two Gryffindor's are standing outside of the front gate of Malfoy Manor. Draco has everything planned out perfectly so that both he and Lavender will be accepted, to which Lavender will not be herself. They thought up every member of her family (even pets), and Draco taught her all sorts of pureblood etiquette. She knew most of it already, but the stuff she didn't has been branded perfectly into her memory. Draco wonders which shade of orange she'll be when her Glimmer Bag colour is able to change again—which happens to be in three days, now. They've dyed her hair a rusty-blond by muggle means, and changed her eyes to a murky green with green contacts (another muggle thing) over her hazel eyes. They would have used magic, but the wards around the Manor don't allow anything with a magically altered appearance to enter, so muggle disguises it was. Besides, not even Voldemort would suspect contacts. Draco didn't even know how they worked; they were Lavender's idea.

"I don't know why you're suddenly questioning me," Draco says, standing perfectly straight in his suit. "You were all for it last week, when I thought up the idea. Remember what I said, now…"

"Of course, darling," Lavender says, letting her collar alone and linking her arm in Draco's. She unfolds her green fan, decorated in cross-stitched roses, holding it in front of her chest like a bouquet of flowers. She's supposed to be Draco's girlfriend, crushing any knowledge/thoughts with the band of Death Eater's that Draco is gay and with Harry Potter. Because, surprisingly enough, while Hogwarts disapproves of secret within itself, it's really quite wonderful at hiding them from the outside world.

"And?" Draco says after giving the password that alerts the inside of the Manor of visitors to the gate ("guest", simply because they are a guest).

"Hugging is the greatest form of affection I am out loud to give you, but I may sleep in your arms." Her voice is posh, but her face betrays it. She doesn't want to sleep in his arms, and Draco doesn't want to hold her anyway. Thankfully they're used to being physically close to each other and helping each other get dressed and other boyfriend/girlfriend things. It's just…weird, pretending that they're in love, because they're far from it in this romantic concept.

But it's the only way.

"Correct," Draco says, nodding.

That's when the front gate opens, and the two Gryffindor's walk inside before it closes again. This particular pathway has a spell that kills all muggles and muggleborns, but Draco knows that it won't kill Lavender because she's touching him. It's only because Draco is a Malfoy that she doesn't spontaneously combust; even with another pureblood not of the family, the flames would not in any way be deterred.

They stop walking at the front door. It towers above them, surrounded by gargoyles and poisonous plants and hiding spells ready to burst forth at the given word.

"Honestly, Draco," Lavender says pompously, fanning herself. "Have you no house elves to walk us from the gate?"

Draco suppresses a grin at her very pureblood answer. "Not when it disapproves of guests, no," he says. "The wards take care of any visitors my parents don't want." He still has to act like his own Gryffindor self, because if he's acting like a Slytherin then everybody will suspect something is going on.

That's when the door opens, revealing Peter and Snape. Both sets of eyes widen at them, Peter's in confusion and Snape's in shock and carefully masked concern/fright. Draco sort of wants to punch Harry's Head of House in the face, but that wouldn't go over so well.

"Afternoon, Snape. Peter," Draco says with a bright smile. "Is the Dark Lord here, by chance?"

"He's out," Snape says slowly, his brain obviously working to place the woman at Draco's side. "Would you…like to…come in?" His eyes dart to Lavender again.

"Oh, how rude of me," Draco says, feigning awkwardness. "Darling, these are two of those Death Eater's I was telling you about. Peter Pettigrew and Severus Snape, both the two men who helped the most in destroying Harry Potter's family." Snape flinches, but Draco ignores it. "Peter, Snape, this is my girlfriend, Estella Bakerview. She's a student of Beauxbatons."

"How do you do?" both Death Eater's say, Peter with a blush and Snape slowly, still trying to place her.

"So pleased to meet you," Lavender says perfectly, nodding elegantly at them, her fan still fanning. "Draco's told me so much about you in particular, Severus, especially about your Glimmer Bag colour. My top two are _lavender_ and _brown_."

At her extreme emphasis on the colours that were only half once hers, Snape's eyes widen in realization at who she really is.

"Ah!" Snape says, his face breaking in to a smile sort of thing. More like a pained kind of grimace, in all honesty. "The pleasure is all mine, Miss Bakerview. Do come in, both of you, please."

He sweeps his bat-like arm open, and Draco and Lavender walk inside, Lavender winking discretely at Snape as they pass.

"Snape!" says an angry voice as the four of them walk through the Manor. "Who in Merlin's name said that you could allow in _guests_?"

"Come now, Thane," Draco says, turning around to smile at Vince's father. "Don't you recognize me? I'm not that hard to decipher from the back, am I?"

Thane's jaw drops, as does the mouth of Pansy's father, Elijah, who is standing beside Thane.

"Draco?" Thane asks, incredulous. "What are you doing here? The Dark Lord is going to throttle you!"

"And what have I done that demands my being throttled?" Draco asks, crossing his arms. "I did everything right on the night of Headmaster Dumbledore's death, and as far as I know, he hasn't been looking for me at all. Now I've come back to take my fathers place, as has my friend here come to take the place of my mother, wherever on earth she can be."

"You don't know?" Elijah asks, skeptical.

"Do I sound like I do?" Draco asks, cocking an eyebrow. "No, I don't. Now, if you would all be so kind as to invite everyone in to the regular meeting room, I have a few things I would like to discuss before the Dark Lord returns."

"Meeting without me will not be necessary," says a dark voice behind Draco.

He and Lavender swivel around to see Voldemort walking towards them in all his glory, with Nagini around his shoulders and Bellatrix at his side.

"My lord!" all of Snape, Peter, Thane, and Elijah say, instantly bowing down to the evil wizard. Draco and Lavender bow the lowest of them all, but far slower.

"Draco…" Voldemort says, ignoring all four grown adult men and sweeping over to stand in front of Draco.

"Good afternoon, sir," Draco says, tightening the grip of his arm around Lavender, who Draco can tell is just barely keeping from bursting. She's muggleborn, after all, and Gryffindor to top it all off.

"Yes…yes, a very good afternoon." Voldemort's eyes sweep over Lavender before darting back to Draco. "What brings you here, son of Lucius? Revenge? To tell us how to get to where your mother is? To take the place of your father?"

Draco gives a half smile. "The last one, actually."

Voldemort's smile could have caused someone's eyes to gouge them_selves_ out. "How nice of you. We'll go to the dining room, then, yes?"

"That's your decision," Draco says, stepping to the side to allow Voldemort to pass. "Not mine."

"Indeed." He glides past all of them, Bellatrix still at his side and now giving Draco a look of all confusion, anger, and happiness. Bit of a mix-up, really.

The five men and Lavender follow after him to the dining room where the table for all past, present, and future meetings is set up. Their band of eight grows to thirteen, and the table is slowly filled up with all of them. Voldemort at the head, Draco in his father's place, Lavender in his mothers, and Draco's usual place for whenever he's around is left empty.

"I think the first deal of business," Voldemort says slowly, "is to let those of you who have yet noticed that we seem to have grown in our numbers. Our very dear friend, Draco Malfoy, has returned to us, set on taking his fathers place. But who, pray tell, is this friend of yours, Draco? Would you be so kind as to…introduce us to her?" His lips curl back in a smile, and Lavender lets go of my arm as I stand.

"Hey guys," Draco says first, smiling around at everyone. Bellatrix and Andrew smile, but that's about it. "Um, I'd like you all to meet Estella Bakerview. She's my girlfriend from Beauxbatons."

"Girlfriend?" Alecto asks shrilly. "But you don't like girls!"

"Contrary to popular belief," Draco lies, eyeing the female Carrow, "I happen to like them _both_."

"But what about Potter?" Amycus asks.

"We left each other," Draco says, screwing up his face in what he hopes passes for disgust. "I should have gotten the location of his hiding place, but he kicked me out before I could. Not to mention they've probably moved by now anyway. We moved a lot."

Draco can tell that Snape wants to speak but isn't. Smart Man.

"And you're not sad at all?" Jillian asks. Her voice is blank, her face is blank, and her dress is black—just like everything else in her wardrobe.

"Sad?" Draco asks, putting a hand on his hip. He still has to act gay, after all. "Sad I wasn't able to slit his throat, maybe. But aside from that, not so much."

"Oh, Draco, don't be silly," Lavender says, lightly swatting Draco's hand. "You couldn't hurt a fly."

"On the contrary, my dear Ella," Draco says, turning around so that he's leaning against the table with his arms crossed and looking down at Lavender. "I've squashed many an insect with the butt of my wand, here. See?" He flips out his wand and bends down to show Lavender said butt. "Right there, there are the remains of a caddis fly wing."

"That's disgusting, Dray," Lavender says to the perfectly clean wand, using the nickname Bella gave him. Drake usually pushed Draco close to tears, so they decided to make him put up with the other one. "I'll clean it off for you before we go to sleep."

"Oh, I don't think you will be sleeping much," Voldemort says slimily, effectively ending the conversation and causing Draco to quick sit his arse back down on his chair.

"I had a feeling we wouldn't be," Draco says quietly, automatically reaching over to hold Lavender's hand. He hopes everyone notices how comfortable they are touching.

"Would you like to guess, Draco? I know how you like to guess what I'm thinking." Voldemort tents his fingers, staring fixatedly on Draco.

"You mean, guess why we won't be sleeping?" Draco asks.

"Precisely."

"Because the Mark will keep us awake for the first night," Lavender says confidentially before Draco can say anything else. "The first twenty-four hours of pain keep you awake."

Draco nods. It's what he would have guessed, even though he doesn't know for sure.

Voldemort smiles at her. "Very good, Miss Bakerview."

"Please," Lavender says, smiling politely back at him, "Estella will do."

He smiles again, but it's not a happy smile. Its one of those smiles only a man with a feared name can smile. "You have such beautiful hair, Estella. Do you dye it, perhaps?"

Lavender shoots Draco a glare, and he gives her one of those _hehheh_ kinds of looks. They planned out that answer. They planned everything.

"Forgive me," Lavender says, looking back at Voldemort. "Draco told me no one would notice. My real colour is a terrible shade of brown."

"I wish my hair was brown again," Elijah says. "I grayed years ago."

"What's wrong with gray?" Jillian asks.

"An easy question for someone who dyes their hair a dull silver," Alecto retorts, twirling her jet-black locks in her fingers.

"We are not discussing hair colours any longer," Voldemort says, causing the room to go instantly silent. "Draco, Estella, I would like to speak with you in…" His lips curl. "Private."

As most of the room starts to rise to leave, Draco says, "Wait."

They hesitate, not sure if they should run out or not so that Voldemort doesn't think they're questioning about obeying him.

"Yes, Draco?" Voldemort asks quietly.

"I was wondering if I could introduce the others," he says. "I mean, to Estella. So she knows who people are. She knows names, but not which ones go to which face."

"You may."

Everyone sits back down again as Draco stands.

"You know the Dark Lord," Draco says, starting at the head of the table. "My aunt, Bellatrix Lestrange is at his right. She's the most fervent follower of us all, I guarantee. I've already introduced you to Snape and Peter. These are Amycus and Alecto Carrow, the siblings, and probably the best of us after Bella. Thane is the father of Vincent Crabbe, my Gryffindor friend I've mentioned. Elijah Parkinson is the father of Pansy Parkinson, another Gryffindor friend." Draco skips over the seats once dedicated to the Malfoy's. "And to my left here we have Jillian and Andrew Yaxley. Careful around Jillian, her emotions can get somewhat out of hand."

Jillian looks up at Draco with a blank face at his sarcasm. Draco knows her well enough to know that she's really glaring at him, though. He already told Lavender that she's the only gray he's ever met.

"Charmed," Lavender says, smiling in a very pureblood manner at each of them. "I hope to get to know each of you instead of dying."

She actually cracks a few smiles at that, but nobody says anything as Voldemort motions for them all to leave. Bellatrix stays, though, and none of the other three in the room question it.

"I like to get to know my Death Eater's," Voldemort says, pressing his palms flat to the table. "I know Draco very well, though I am confused _why_ he wants to…join me. So, Draco, if you would be so kind as to give me the reasoning for wanting to take your father's place…"

Draco sighs. "It's not much of a reason at all, really. Mostly because I just…I belong here. Both of my parents followed you, as did you"—Draco motions to Bellatrix—"and your…ex-husband." Draco doesn't like saying her dead husband. She never cares, but it's still awkward. "Besides, this is my home." Draco looks around the dining room hall. It's big and dark and ugly. "Things that go on in here go on in me. I have to be a part of it or I'm filled with this…this…" He presses an open palm to his chest. "This emptiness, you know? I need this."

Draco had practiced that speech on Lavender only once. He didn't need to any more than that, because it just came naturally to him. It all makes sense to him, his reason, as much as he hates to admit it. This really is his home, even though it's completely opposite to his taste. His family really does follow Voldemort, as much as most of them regret it. It scares him how real the reason could be. How real he really could need to do what he's doing. But he doesn't need to for those reasons. He needs to so that he can save Harry.

When Draco looks back over at Voldemort, the Dark Lord laughs. Not a real laugh, but just the kind you give when you know someone's completely shitting you.

"Come now, Draco," he says, folding his hands. "I know you so much better than that."

"Oh _fine_," Draco says, rolling his eyes heavenward. He hates how well he gets along with the evilest/most terrifying wizard in history. It's just the fact that he was raised around him, so he knows exactly how he's allowed to act. Draco isn't afraid of Voldemort because he knows that he likes him—not enough to care if he dies, but enough that he probably won't kill Draco himself.

"But I'm not completely shitting you," Draco continues. "I mean, you get it, right? You get why I need to do this? Because if you don't I—"

"I do," Voldemort interrupts. Well, no, he can't interrupt. Dark Lord's don't interrupt things, according to themselves. "But that's not why I'm allowing this…this thing"—he waves his hands to gesture to Draco's becoming a Death Eater—"to happen. It's been very difficult keeping track of your whereabouts, son of Lucius."

Draco grins, partly because he's so hard to keep track of, and partly because Voldemort actually seems kind of human when he flits his hand. "Well, you know me."

"Quite well, yes, but I do not know your…girlfriend…and I would like to."

"My lord," Bellatrix suddenly says, learning towards Voldemort and pressing the palm closest to him to the table. "You can't possibly—"

She cuts herself off when he places his hands over hers. Draco and Lavender exchange weird looks; Draco knows that Voldemort never touches _any_body, and Lavender's got to know it as well. "Patience, Bella," he says, and while Lavender just sits there confused, Draco really does snort this time. When Voldemort looks up at him, though, his face is completely composed.

As he pulls his hand away he fixates his gaze on Lavender. "Tell me about yourself, Estella Bakerview."

Lavender grins. She practiced this speech on Draco a hundred times over. "My middle name is Lynn, and I'm the same age as Draco. My parents were Oscar Lee and Kianna Lynn Bakerview before they died thanks to a muggle car accident. Mother had the same last name as father even before they married, which is how they met. My older brother, Querty Lee, died with them in the accident. I don't know where my younger sister is because they separated us. Her name is Weena Lai. I've never had any past boyfriend's, and the closest person I've ever been to died from some form of cancer. I don't even know what kind, which just goes to show how highly I disapprove of friends. Friends at school means not finished my homework, and I would much rather do that then anything else. I read often, and my favorite word is perspicacious. I like dolphins, and my favorite colour is sapphire blue. I had two pets before my parents died—two years ago, by the way—named Zebra and Horse. Zebra is a screech owl and Horse is a Blast-Ended Skrewt."

Bellatrix giggles.

"Creative," Voldemort says, nodding. "And a unique background unlike any of my other Death Eaters. What things are you best at, spell wise? What categories are you good at?"

"Fire," Lavender answers instantly. "And colours. "

"How good?"

Lavender grins, and Draco honestly don't know what she's about to say. They planned this answer out, but she wouldn't tell him this part. She wouldn't tell him what her answer would be if Voldemort asked it. "The Fiendfyre Curse," she says, still grinning. "I've learned how to control it."

Draco's eyes widen and his jaw drops, Bellatrix's jaw drops, and Voldemort's palms press flat against the table again.

"You can_not_!" Bella all but screeches. "It's _un_con_troll_able! That's what every book says! There's no _way_ you can _possibly_—"

"Oh, shush," Draco says, waving Bella's shrill surprise away. "You did _not_ tell me that you could do that," he says, attention back at Lavender. And she didn't. He didn't even think it was possible. It's not, is it?

"Why would I?" she asks, tilting her head away from me. "I had to keep something for myself, didn't I?"

"But…but…you didn't even tell me when—"

"I'm aware, love," she says, reaching over and patting one of Draco's cheeks. ""Don't think about it now. If I'm not dead later, we'll discuss it so we can distract ourselves from the pain." She turns back to Voldemort, grinning again. "I'm not shitting you, either, as Draco would put it. I can show you, if you trust me, which I don't expect you to."

Voldemort blinks at her, and Draco can't tell if he's contemplating letting her show him or just surprised at her confidence. "Later," he says, dragging his hands across the table and tenting them again. "You may show me later. What else can you do? And I admit that it won't seem near as important after finding such a strong talent as controlling the Fiendfyre, but nonetheless."

Lavender shrugs one arm. "Anything with fire, really. Flame-Freezing charms, Flagrante curse, _Flagrate_, _Incendio_, and the Fiendfyre Curse in general. The desert is a wonderful place to practice it. Also colour-changing charms. Hence my hair." She pushes her blue painted nails through it, styling it up as she goes. Most other girls would just mess it up doing that, but Draco knows Lavender well, and he knows that she's well into fashion and how to fix ones hair without looking.

"And your eyes," Voldemort says, tapping his fingers together.

They planned this answer, too. "Oh, no, those are real," she says, smiling at him. "An ugly green, but I like them."

Without any warning for his actions, Voldemort lifts his wand and says, "Finite Incantatem!" while pointing it at Lavender.

When the sparks of the spell melt into her eyes, nothing happens.

Lavender smiles. "Do you trust me, yet?"

He lowers his wand. "Come here, Estella."

She stands, and Draco can see the hatred and the fear in her eyes. He knows the other two can't. Lavender is the master of disguise, and if it weren't for the fact that she's too laid back and hadn't been so worried (when her Bag changed to cornflower blue), she would have been one of the three shades of orange right away. There's no doubt in Draco's mind.

Voldemort takes her left arm, presses his wand to its underside, and whispers something underneath his breath. Black begins to seep out of his wand, staining itself over Lavender's arm. It melts out, spreading out at all sides. Voldemort's wand is the middle of the design, and the ink acts accordingly.

When he pulls away, Lavender's skin is fresh with the Mark of the Death Eater.

She looks down at it, tracing her finger lightly over it, tracing the snake and the head of the skull. She looks over at Draco, her eyes no longer frightened, and the anger deeply resided. "It doesn't hurt yet," she says before looking back at the Dark Lord. "When will it start to hurt?"

"Very soon," Voldemort says, motioning the blond over to him with his wand. Draco's body moves on its own. His legs stand him up and his feet carry him over to the Dark Lord, and his arm reaches out on its own.

_Am I really doing this?_ Draco thinks, staring down at Voldemort's wand seem to move towards his arm in slow motion. _There's no way. I'm not. Not willingly. Not even for Harry_. But that's just it. He is doing it, and it's just for Harry. Just to save him. Draco regrets more than almost anything running away from Harry. He knows his actions are justifiable, but he wishes he would have just ran away crying or something. He wishes he would have just given Harry time to think. Draco wouldn't have to think, but he's Gryffindor. Harry is Slytherin, and they take so much longer to think. Draco knows that because every single one of his relatives is a Slytherine, except Remmy will most likely be Gryffindor with him, and he's not sure if Felicia will be Slytherin or Ravenclaw.

That's the plan. The plan is to get on to Voldemort's good-enough side so that they can save Harry. True, neither of them will be able to stay with Harry because of the Dark Mark's and their built-in "tracking device", but they'll still be able to make contact with him without anybody knowing, and they'll still be able to make it easier for Harry to destroy Voldemort.

Now they just have to make sure not to let Voldemort use the _legilimens_ spell on them to find out if he can truly trust them. Because if he does, Lavender will be dead in a heartbeat, and Draco will most likely be given to Bellatrix to inflict on him a slow death. The death for traitors, or whatever Draco is. A muggle-lover, maybe? It doesn't matter. Whatever he is, he'll be dead.

Voldemort's wand presses hard against Draco's skin, and the ink that washes over him is hot. It feels like it bubbles over and into his skin, prickling him like needles. But Lavender was right. It doesn't hurt. Not yet.

"Snape has volunteered to prepare your room for two," the Dark Lord says to Draco, pulling the wand away. "As soon as one of you shuts the door, the pain will begin. You have three hours to shut the door, and you may spend those three hours however you wish. I cannot track you until the pain is over."

Draco frowns. "And you're telling us this because…?"

"No reason," Bellatrix says, putting her hands in front of her mouth and giggling.

Voldemort looks at her, and she falls silent, folding her hands and dropping them into her lap.

"Because I want to catch you doing something you wouldn't do if you knew that I knew where you were."

Draco smiles at Voldemort. "Good to know." He takes Lavender's hand and, after a wave goodbye to his aunt, leads her out of the dining room and down the corridors to his bedroom.

_**XxX**_

"Draco, before you shut the door," Snape says, appearing in the doorway.

The instant that Draco looks up at him, memories of his father and the realization of what he's just done flood his mind, and he bursts into tears.

"Oh, Mr. Snape, _honestly_," Lavender says, pulling Draco into her arms so he can cry into her shoulder. "He's been through enough already without you coming in to remind him of it!"

Snape fidgets awkwardly, just inside of the door. "I'm sorry, Draco," he says. "But the tears were inevitable."

"And _why_, exactly?" Lavender snaps. She can actually be more herself, now. She's never exactly been the _fondest_ of Harry's Head of House.

Snape looks directly into Draco's eyes. "I was going to bring him to his father's grave."

Draco coughs, choking slightly. "He's here?" he asks, and Lavender automatically lets him go. He stumbles over to Snape, letting himself fall into the older mans arms. "His body is here? In the Manor cemetery?"

Snape nods, steadying Draco at arms length. "I wanted to show you before the pain began."

Draco whimpers slightly, and with a slight eye roll the older professor lets the blond fall back against him.

"Do you want to go see it now, Dray?" Lavender asks, back in Estella Mode.

"No," Draco sniffles, leaning his head away from Snape to wipe his nose on his sleeve. "No, I'd rather wait. I don't think three hours is enough time to be there."

Snape nods as Lavender carefully pulls Draco off of him, leading the blond over to the bed.

"Peter will bring you your lunch," Snape says as Draco kicks off his shoes. "The Carrow's will bring in dinner, Peter will be back for breakfast, and I'll return when the twenty-four hours is over."

"We'll be seeing you, then," Lavender says, pulling her blond hair out of the elaborate braid piled on top of her head. "Ow." She winces slightly, slowly sliding out a bobby pin. Much as Lavender helps other people dress, her hair is usually just hanging around her in curls, not being pulled every which direction.

"Goodbye."

"Snape," Draco says, pulling the pillow he was wiping his tears with away from his face.

"It's Severus, Draco," Snape says quietly. "You're one of us, now."

Draco sighs. "How bad does it hurt, Severus?" he asks, even quieter than Snape—er, Severus.

Severus purses his lips before answering: "Like the Cruciatus all pushed into one place."

When he shuts the door behind him, Draco barely gets to shoot a terrified look at Lavender before they both collapse, gripping their Mark's in agonizing pain.

_**XxX**_

_24 hours after the door is shut…_

When Severus walks in exactly twenty-four hours later, Draco becomes distinctly aware of how bad his bedroom smells. There's food from all three meals sitting out because he and Lavender had been in too much pain to eat, not to mention Draco's pants are wet from not being able to make it to the bathroom at all. He doesn't know what Lavender was able to do; they were in too much pain to hardly even look at each other, let alone keep tabs on what the other was doing.

"Oh gods," Lavender groans, pushing herself into a sitting position. "Draco, how big is your bathtub?"

"Big enough for both of us," he answers, letting Severus help him up.

"I'll get fresh food," Severus says as he pulls out clean clothes for Draco.

"And can you get one of the house elves to bring something of mothers for Estella?" Draco asks. "Something with long sleeves, preferably. These Marks are freezing cold."

"It gets better," Severus says, handing Draco the clothes. "And I'll send Kneelia with a dress for…Estella."

Lavender grins and winks at him before sauntering into the adjoining bathroom.

"Are you…" Severus eyes the bathroom door, just barely cracked, wearily. "Are you really going to go in there with her?"

"Well yeah," Draco says, gingerly walking across his bedroom so his pants rub against him as little as possible. "We're dating, after all."

Severus looks down at him with the face he usually only gives Gryffindor's and Hufflepuff's. "I'll take you to Lucius' grave after you both have…cleaned yourselves."

Draco knows that half the reason Severus is taking him there is so they can talk freely, but he only nods in acknowledgment before he goes into the bathroom.

"I feel like I'm at Hogwarts again," Lavender says, sinking into the hot, soapy water.

"I'm used to it," Draco says, crawling in across from her.

They don't care about seeing parts of each others bodies. Why would it matter when Draco is gay and Lavender doesn't even have the word "privacy" in her vocabulary? Not to mention they're both in love with others, and Draco knows he doesn't notice anyone else, and he'd bet his life that Lavender hardly even notices Neville.

"Wow," Lavender says, looking over one of Draco's many hair product bottles. "What language is this?"

"Possibly Persian, but I have no idea," Draco says, sinking into the hot, soapy water. "It keeps the smell of watermelons in my hair for up to a week."

"Watermelons?" She smirks. "I'm using it."

"Please do."

Draco finds himself starring dreamily at Lavender's hair. "Estella, darling," Draco says, picking up one of the shampoo bottles. "Would you be opposed to my washing your hair for you?"

She looks up from soaping her body up, a naughty grin on her face. "I'd be offended if you didn't."

_**XxX**_

The Malfoy Manor cemetery is on the far edge of the back side of the property. Draco can see it from his bedroom window, but only just. He knows that the only way to tell who somebody is from the distance is by magic or telescope, and unless Voldemort put spells up there's no way at all to hear them. Draco's sure there are no hearing-aid charms, though, if Snape is so keen on accompanying him and Lavender to the grave of Draco's father.

There are only ten graves, all the same size and the same stony gray. Only one of them isn't old, though. Draco knows there are house elves that come out and clean them once a week, but no matter how often you keep something up to par, it always ends up breaking eventually. Draco's father was buried les than a year ago, though, so it's the nicest one there.

Draco clamps his eyes shut so he doesn't have to look at it, and Lavender automatically snakes her arm around Draco's waist to lead him over. It takes a bit of shaking Draco's hand, but he finally gets Severus' attention, and the Hogwarts professor lets Draco take a tight hold of his wrist.

"Don't let go," Draco whispers to his two companions.

When he opens his eyes, he manages to hold back his tears just long enough to read the words etched onto the stone:

_Lucius Abraxas Malfoy  
1954 to 1996  
Forty-Two Living Years_

"Death is only a choice we forget not to make."

"Death is only a choice we forget not to make," Draco reads out loud around his tears. He looks up at Snape. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"That, if we put our minds to it, we can choose not to die," Severus says, glancing around the cemetery. "I just wish choosing to be cowardly _wasn't_."

Before Draco can ask what Severus means by that last sentence, another voice speaks:

"Cowardly? _I'm_ cowardly? Listen _here_ you pompous Slytherin. Just because _you're_ not afraid of what he's going to say doesn't mean _I_ can't be."

Draco yelps as a sort of misty white-gray thing shimmers into being above the gravestone, hands on hips and hair pulled back into a tight, ghostly ponytail.

Draco's father is a _ghost_.

He's a ghost. Just like Draco thought he was. Just like Harry said he wouldn't be. Harry was wrong, and Draco is right, and…and…

"_Dad_," Draco manages to choke out. Even though he told them not to, Lavender and Severus let go of him, and he's glad for that. His father lowers himself so that he can hug his son, and Draco holds onto him so tightly that his arms actually sink slightly into his ghostliness.

"Why can I touch you?" Draco asks around his tears that are dripping through the ghostly figure of Lucius Malfoy.

"Come now, Draco," his father says, crooking his finger to tilt the blonds chin up. "Have you never been subject to one of Peeves' cruel practical jokes? He can touch things. All ghosts can touch whatever we please, and we can go through whatever we want through as well."

Draco purses his lips. "Everybody thought you were dead. I saw your soul escape yourself, and I told Harry that maybe you became a ghost, but he told me not to get my hopes up." He buries his face into his father's chest. It doesn't feel the same, of course. Kind of like a liquid pillow. "Is being a…a ghost better than being alive?"

His father sighs. "No. I can touch things, but I can't feel them. I can't eat anything, and I can't cast any spells because I can't use a wand. Certain spells can be used on _me_, though. Physical things, like _densaugeo_ and _langlock_. Not _levicorpus_ or _incarcerous_ or the Unforgivable Curses, and nothing that involves my mind, like _legilimens_. The problem for anyone who's trying to cast a spell on me, though, is actually hitting me, since I can make them just go through me if I think about it in time."

Draco frowns. "I wonder how hard it would be to get on Peeves' good side. Does mother know yet? I mean, about you not being…gone forever?"

His father sighs, letting go of him to pull his legs into a crisscrossed position as he floats just above the headstone again. It's so undignified for Draco's father, and it makes Draco want to laugh. Azkaban must have done this to him, before Voldemort broke him out. Because there's no other factor to his newfound oddities, unless it was dying in general.

"You three are the only ones that know. And, speaking of you three…" He turns to Lavender. "Who are you?"

Lavender looks over at Snape, who nods.

"You're sure?" she asks.

"Positive," he replies tonelessly.

Lavender turns to Draco's father and holds her hand out. "Lavender Lily Brown, at your service." Once Lucius shakes her hand, she continues: "Muggleborn Gryffindor, and your son's best friend."

Lucius eyes her wearily for a couple of seconds before shrugging and saying, "Oh, blood doesn't matter to me anymore. I'm dead, after all. I've heard of you, Miss Brown. Took care of Potter when my son was away, did you? Nice of you. Thank you for protecting him." He turns with a smile to Draco. "I know how much he means to Draco. Now wonder she's your best friend."

Memories flood through Draco's mind, and his tears flood over again. Lavender pulls him into her arms, and Snape takes his hand again. The smile on Lucius' face falls away, and he floats down to hold on to Draco's arm.

"Sev spoke to me yesterday," he says, "Out here, so no one would hear us. He told me what you said about Potter. How you broke up with him and wish you could have killed him. We knew the latter wasn't true, but…well, we couldn't tell about the former." Draco looks over at his father, sniffing deeply. "What happened, son?"

Before Draco can hurt himself by trying to answer, Lavender cradles his head against her shoulder and answers for him: "They had a fight when we were on the run, about two weeks ago. One of those ones about love, you know? Draco lost it and apparated away, and I just had to come with him. We haven't tried to get back yet…we have things to do before we can go back."

"Like what, exactly?" Lucius asks.

"We have to find out what the Dark Lord's horcruxes are, and all the ways there are to destroy them."

"I _knew_ it," Snape says. "No one in this day and age would…_willingly_ become a Death Eater without a…true purpose. That's very…Slytherin of you two…both being Gryffindor…"

Draco wipes away his tears and shrugs. "Son of a Death Eater, it happens."

Lucius actually smiles. "Ex-Death Eater, actually."

Draco frowns. "Ex?"

Pushing up his ghostly sleeve, Lucius holds out his bare arm. "It goes away when you die."

Draco reaches out and slowly drags a finger down the unblemished skin, even though he can't feel the warmth, and even though his father being a ghost makes it nearly impossible to feel him in the first place.

"When I die," Draco says, "I want to be a ghost just long enough to see my arm without this evil thing again."

"Well, they might let you do that…"

Draco looks up at his father. "They?"

"Well someone has to run the Underworld, right?"

Lavender frowns. "Underworld?"

"Otherwise known as hell," Lucius says, "sitting" down on top of his gravestone and throwing his ankle over his knee. "It's not as bad as you might think. Aside from the smell it's really quite pleasant, actually."

"Ahh…"

Draco frowns. "How would anyone even run a place like that?" he asks.

"Oh, you know, orders to torture here, ghost policies there. You have to have a good enough reason to become a ghost. If you didn't, there'd be far too many of us floating around. You have to sign in, of course, but only those of us who become ghosts can ever sign out."

"Wait, but, who actually runs it all?"

"It's kind of like the Ministry, actually. Demons are like Auror's, in a sense. And then there's the big guy—AKA the worldly known Satan. He prefers Lucifer, though Venus—I mean, his wife tends to call him Lucy because of it. Not that I'm complaining since Bella has always called be the same. Either way, it's always been a lovely conversation, our nicknames, to have over our own personal poisons."

Draco's jaw drops. "You have lovely conversations over _drinks_ with the _devil_?"

Lucius shrugs. "He likes me."

"He likes you," Draco repeats.

"Oh, honestly, Draco." He turns to Lavender, opens his mouth to speak, but then stops and turns to Severus when he sees her equally appalled face. "Kids these days."

"Gryffindor's," Snape corrects, nodding.

"Nothing makes sense to me anymore," Lavender says, throwing her hands up. "I'm leaving."

"Actually…I need to get going as well," Severus says, looking at the watch on his right wrist. "You know…tasks for a Death Eater…and whatnot."

"I'll meet you back in the room, Draco," Lavender says, waving goodbye as she troops after Severus. Draco hears them whispering faintly as they head off.

Draco turns back to his father. "Think you could get a word in to the big guy for me if I end up down there?"

"Oh, you definitely will. It's the only place that you can go. Heaven is for those of us that never had a chance."

"Oh, that's good to know. I'll stop trying so hard."

"Oh, give me a hug, you stupid Gryffindor."

Draco wraps his arms around the ghostly figure of his father. "What changed you so much, father?" he asks quietly.

He exhales. Not a sigh, but just breathing out. "Common Sense."

* * *

References: 1. "_Aside from the smell it's really quite pleasant, actually_."  
Lucius' line here, describing hell, is an idea I actually got from a My Chemical Romance song called _Mama_. The real lyrics are: "Mama, we all go to hell. It's really quite pleasant, except for the smell."

/

A/N: Lavender's fake name, Estella, I "stole". It's from Charles Dickens's _Great Expectations_. I had to read it in my ninth grade English class, and I've been waiting forever for a chance to use Estella's name :) Oh, and Luke's (Rawr) last name, Havisham, was from that as well. And speaking of names, Lucius' middle name, by the way, is the name of his father. I only know that thanks to the Harry Potter Wikipedia thing.


	28. Year 7, Part II

**Year Seven, Part II: Hello, Beautiful**

Beginning chapter A/N's: This chapter is dedicated to the actor that plays Scabior (or whoever it is that says "hello beautiful" to Hermione in the movie, and he also says it here because why not), because he is completely fucking attractive and even his style and I love it when guys wear eyeliner and just whatever. So this chapter is for him!

* * *

"Harry, _please_," Hermione says, just barely loud enough to be heard over the rain.

Harry turns around to see her sticking her head outside of the tent, her hair out of its usual ponytail and slowly being soaked in the downpour. Her eyes are red, and Harry knows she's been crying about Ron again.

"Please what?" he says.

"Please come _inside_. You've been out here for hours, and you've hardly made a single noise but the clicking of the locket against the rocks." Harry looks down beside him where the locket is sitting on a mossy stone. He and Hermione don't wear it unless they're on the move. "He'll come back, Harry, I know it. I don't know when, but he'll find us—or at least Lav will. Just let him think about it. You're a Slytherin, for Merlin's sake! Please just come back inside."

"Why?" he asks, looking back up at her.

"Because you'll catch your death out here. We don't need you, of all people, to get sick at a time like this. You need your strength. Besides, I made corn for dinner."

"You made corn for lunch, too."

"Yeah, well, you said you were sick of carrots, so get the fuck over it and come inside."

Harry forces himself not to comment or smile at her. She's on her period (to which he had figured out by the accidental happening of him opening his eyes after waking up and seeing her burning a bloody tampon across the way), so he knows she's not exactly in the best of moods.

Inside, the table that Harry was sitting at when Draco left is covered in parchment and a couple of muggle pens and pencils that Hermione brought along. On the parchment are the lists that Hermione promised she would help Harry make. The lists that list out all of the things that Harry loves Draco for, and Hermione made one for Ron while they were at it. So far, Hermione's is 24 inches long, and she writes _small_. Harry's, on the other hand, has slightly bigger writing—but the fact that he has three rolls of parchment that are each 24 inches long makes up for that. At least twice as much as Hermione. He just hopes he has the chance to give it to Draco.

The food (corn, mushroom soup, and onions for the solids, and pumpkin juice that Harry will be mixing with vodka for himself when Hermione isn't looking. The only reason that Hermione doesn't drink any of the vodka is because she doesn't know Harry has any, not to mention the fact that she knows that she at least has to have a clear head so they don't get themselves killed) is set out over the floor, with two pillows set out beside them for Harry and Hermione to sit on while they eat.

They eat in silence, like they always do. Their time is usually filled up with one of four things, or sometimes multiple of them at once: adding to their lists, sleeping, searching vacantly for horcruxes, and eating.

Harry helps Hermione pick up the dishes, and then he automatically goes and sits at the table. Hermione takes control of the locket, setting it down on a stone chair beside her that she made so it won't burn itself through the table.

"Harry," Hermione says quietly, writing something down on her lists.

"What?" Harry says, starring down at his own. Considering that he has over one hundred things, his reasons are getting a bit stupid. Things like _because you stopped growing_ and _because you have a teddy bear_. Harry wouldn't care if Draco was a foot taller than him, or if he had a _real_ bear. He just wants his boyfriend back. They're still boyfriends, aren't they? No one said anything about officially breaking p. Harry hopes they didn't, because he's been counting lots of things these past couple weeks. How long it's been since they met in the robe shop, and how long it's been since their first kiss, and how long it's been since the first day of sixth year when they got together.

"I found one."

Harry's pen clatters to the table. How could she say that so _calmly_? Like she was informing Harry what breakfast would be that morning.

"Where?" he asks.

"The golden cup of Helga Hufflepuff. They're in the Malfoy family vault at Gringotts."

Harry frowns. He saw that with Dumbledore in the pensieve. How hadn't he thought of that? They already know what four of them are: the diary, the locket, the ring, and Voldemort's snake Nagini. One is destroyed, one they _can't_ destroy, one Hermione figured out is inside the Snitch, and the last one might as well be impossible to destroy as well. And then Harry and Draco know what a fifth one is…but that can't happen yet, either. Not until the end.

Harry sighs. "Right. I'm going for a walk. If I think of a way to break into one of the oldest vaults in Gringotts I'll give you a holler."

"Harry, please don't—"

Harry is out of the tent before she finishes, stomping away. The rain has washed most of the snow away, but not Harry's memories. Draco is gone with Lavender, and who knows where they went off to. The grave of his parents is cleaned and decorated with flowers. Bathilda Bagshot I dead. Nagini is still alive. Voldemort is still alive. Luna is…somewhere. She's not at home. If Harry weren't a Slytherin he would be mad at Xenophelius for trying to turn them in. Harry would have done the same thing, after all. At least they know all about the Deathly Hallows, now.

Something catches Harry's eye. He turns, and there stands a doe. A shimmering blue-white doe. A patronus.

Harry remembers something. In the train on the way to sixth year, Draco told him that Snape's patronus is a doe. But it couldn't be… Snape is a Death Eater. He's an evil man that was never meant to be trusted.

It turns away, and Harry runs after it. It's fast, but Harry manages to keep up with it.

But then he slips, and the jagged ice of the pond he did not see cuts into the skin of his hands. Looking up, he swears that the doe is laughing at him. But then she sinks into the water, so Harry crawls to the place that she disappeared into as fast as he can.

And there it is. It's the sword. The sword of Godric Gryffindor.

"Hermione!" Harry yells. It's the first thing he thinks of doing, so he does it. How like a Gryffindor. He misses Draco more than he thought. "Hermione!"

Harry's already got his glasses off and his stripping down to his boxers. His wand is broken, which means it's great at blowing things up, and he easily makes a hold big enough to dive into.

"Hermione!" he yells once more. But when she doesn't show up, he dives in on his own.

_**XxX**_

Harry got the sword. Not easily, though, because it was heavy even underneath the water. Hermione was there, though, to pull him out. And then she destroyed the locket with it, and everything was great for the moment. They both felt so relieved, and to celebrate it they laughed at Harry's attempt to learn how to waltz.

"So what's next?" Harry asks, his third glass of empty vodka in his hand. He didn't water it down the second or third time. It hurt, but he managed it. He can't think of a time he's been more proud of himself, really. He must be drunk.

"Huh?" Hermione says, looking down at him with her glass of pumpkin juice. Harry's got his head in her lap, and she's leaning against the trunk of a tree right beside their tent. She's completely bundled up, but Harry's isn't cold at all.

"What'll we destroy next?" he asks. "We got the locket, and we'll get to the ring, and I got the…the…"

"Diary," she finishes, smiling down at him. "You got the diary in second year."

He grins. "You know who has a really dumb name?"

"No. Who?"

"Voldemort." Hermione's face pales, but Harry continues: "I mean _really_. Out of everything he could have rearranged the letters to, he chose something that would come at the end of the alphabet. Voldemort sounds so primitive. I bet—"

"Harry, shut up!" Hermione yells frantically, and before Harry can say anything more she casts a sobering charm on him.

"Shit!" he says, sitting up. "Shit! You told us not to say his name! Because of the taboo!"

"I'm never letting you drink again!" she growls. With a single sweep of her wand, everything packs itself up—the tent and everything inside, and the lights outside—and swoop themselves into Harry's Glimmer Bag.

"I'm sorry!" he says, using a shrinking charm on the Bag so Hermione can put it into her bra (it's gross, but it's at least safe). "It was an accident! It wasn't supposed to—"

He cuts himself sharply off when four loud cracks sound around them. Harry knows one of them right away: Fenrir Greyback, the werewolf that bit Lupin all those years ago and attacked Bill at the battle at Hogwarts in sixth year. The only other thing Harry can tell about them right away is that one of them is extremely attractive, and that all four of them combined are Snatchers. Ted died by Snatchers. Whether it was these ones or not, Harry's going to kill them all.

Without a word from any of the four of them, Harry and Hermione's wands fly out of their hands and to the ugliest man.

"Well look at what we have _here_," the most attractive one says. "A handsome lad and a pretty girl for a romantic walk in the woods? I don't think so." He looks steadily at Hermione, with her curly hair drawn back and her face tinged in pink because of the cold. "Hello, beautiful."

Hermione glares at him and steps closer to Harry. The man turns to the Slytherin, and just at that time, like fates _wants_ Harry to be caught, a wind blows by and moves the hair over Harry's forehead to reveal his scar.

The eyes of the others widen, and Harry and Hermione take off running in the opposite direction.

"Get them!" one yells.

"That's Harry Potter and his mudblood!" yells another.

"Slytherin traitor!" a third yells. Harry doesn't care enough to yell back to them that she's a Slytherin, too.

"If only she were pureblood," the last says, and Harry knows that that was the one that called Hermione beautiful.

"Faster, Harry!" Hermione says, gaining distance on him.

"I'm trying!" Harry yells back. "Your legs are longer than mine!" Harry may have outgrown Draco, but Hermione's one tall female.

The four others are gaining on them with speed and spells. But Harry won't get caught, and he won't let them get Hermione either.

It just can't happen.

_**OoOoOoO**_

_After Draco finishes up any conversations with Lucius…_

Draco walks back to the Manor slowly, his breath hanging in front of him in foggish patterns. There are winter birds here in the gardens, swooping around Draco with annoying chirps. His father brought them in because the winter gardens won't grow without them. Draco still wants them gone, though, because he doesn't like winter flowers. He likes wildflowers best, because he's always wanted to be free. From birth to the end of fourth year, Draco was bound by his father before Azkaban changed him completely. The summer after fourth year to this present moment, Draco has been bound by Voldemort, and the only thing that's changed about him in all these years is his love for his stupid snake (and maybe Bellatrix, if his touching her hand was any sort of indication to something…).

Honestly, turning a living thing into a horcrux. Thankfully Draco was able to tell Harry and Hermione what six of the seven horcruxes are before he left. The only problem is finding the seventh one, and then finding where they all are, which is the reason that he and Lavender are at the Manor right now. He knows that Harry and Hermione know that the diary is dead, the ring is in the Snitch, Nagini is with Voldemort, and they already have the locket. Four down and three to go. That's progress.

Draco makes his way through the Manor corridors to the Main Hall where Voldemort is, because he wants to see what his first task will be just to get the knowledge over with. Draco, Lavender, Bellatrix, Peter, and the house elves are the only ones inside right now. All of the others are doing who-knows-how-vile thing for Voldemort, and the Dark Lord himself is probably with Nagini somewhere else.

Upon walking into the room, though, Draco is met with one of the most terrifying things in his life.

Lavender has Bellatrix's wand to her throat, Hermione has the wand of Fenrir Greyback at her throat, and Peter Pettigrew has his wand at the throat of Harry—'Ry, Draco's Slytherin, his green-eyed love.

But Draco can't show to the six that are loyal to Voldemort (four Snatchers, including Fenrir and a man Draco knows as Scabior, Bella, and Peter) that he's about to throw up.

"Oh," Draco says, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe. "Looks like somebody didn't invite me to the party. How rude."

"_They know_," Lavender mouths. "_Everything_."

And then Draco hears footsteps behind him.

He whirls around, his wand out, to see Voldemort with Nagini draped over his shoulders.

"Foolish boy," Voldemort hisses, causing Draco's hand to act on its own accord, pushing his wand back into his pocket. "You think I could not see through your lies? I am the most feared wizard in all of histories, and you thought mere _muggle_ means would mask a _muggleborn_ in your own _home_?"

With another flick of his wand, Draco is thrown to the ground by unseen forces. He hears Harry struggling to get free behind him, saying something like "that's by _boyfriend_" in a grunting get-the-hell-off-of-me kind of voice.

"Okay, so I put a bit too much faith in myself," Draco says, crawling backwards with his elbows a bit. There's no point in lying over it. That'll result in torture. But Draco still knows Voldemort, and he still knows that the Dark Lord likes a good laugh. "At least I didn't bring a snake to wrap around my shoulders for the added affect."

Voldemort gives Draco one of his scary _you're trying to hard_ grins. He gives that a lot to his victims. "Stand up, Draco," he says in a softer voice (if that's possible.)

Draco does quickly and becomes acutely aware of the pain in his hip that must have happened when he hit the ground. Silently, Voldemort rains a shimmering gold glitter-like material around Draco's waist, and he instantly feels fine.

"Thanks," he whispers, brushing a few specs off of him.

"Tell me the truth now, Draco," Voldemort says, "or all three of them are dead before you can say goodbye."

Draco's head snaps over to Harry, whose face is a mixture of pain, love, and betrayal. Hermione's eyes are narrowed, and Lavender's are nothing but sad. He remembers when they were rad. Draco was the sad one, and Harry was mad. Who's rad now, though? Not Harry. Not Draco. Bellatrix, maybe.

"Harry and I got in a fight when we were all hiding from you," Draco says, looking back at the Dark Lord. "I yelled a lot, and then I left with Lavender. We came here, with a plan to get on your good side. Or for her to, because I knew I at least had _some_ work to do if I showed up."

"Tell him who she really is!" Bellatrix says, her teeth barred. "Tell him all about the scum I have in my arms!"

Draco knows he's about to cry, but he can't show it. "She's my best friend, from Gryffindor. Lavender Brown. Harry and I wouldn't have made it alive without her."

Voldemort grins. "Funny. You'll have to." Before Draco can protest about what he thinks that means, Voldemort says to Peter, "Take the Mudbloods to the dungeons, Wormtail. Put them with Ollivander and the Lovegood girl."

Draco's jaw drops and he catches Lavender's eye. They didn't know there were other prisoners here!

"Greyback." The attention of all but the three going downstairs snaps back to the Dark Lord. "Tie Harry Potter to the wall with chains." He points his wand at the spot that Draco knows as the "show case" He's seen many people tied up there with the chains that pop out of the wall. Not a single thing (that Draco knows of) can get you out of them except the counter-spell of the person who put the chains onto you, or they'll go back into the wall if you die. You can't even apparate out of them. Then again, only Malfoy's Voldemort, and Bellatrix can apparate on the property anyway.

"The four of you, go now," Voldemort says to the four Snatchers.

Scabior frowns. "But, my lord, do we—"

"I will remember the ones who brought to me the son of James, Scabior," Voldemort says, his normal voice somehow booming through the room. It reminds Draco of Dumbledore. "Do not worry about your reward."

The four bow before quickly exiting the room to exit the Malfoy property to continue on Snatching.

"Draco," Voldemort says.

Draco turns to him.

"Take out your wand."

Draco does, and as he does, says, "What for?"

"Because," he says, walking slowly towards Harry, "You need it to kill the Boy Who Lived."

Draco's wand falls from his fingers and clatters noisily against the stone floor. When Voldemort glances back at it, though, Draco quickly grabs it back up.

"No, you can't," Draco chokes out, stumbling forward. "Please, you _can't_."

Voldemort stops in front of Harry, whose face is blank. But Draco knows that he's in pain; that he wants to kill Voldemort right here and now.

"He will die today," Voldemort says, glaring down into Harry's green eyes. "By whom I do not care. If you refuse to do it, then you will die beside him."

Draco locks his eyes with Harry's. He's pained and torn beyond anything else in the world.

And what does Harry do?

Harry smiles. A warm smile that jumps down Draco's throat and into his heart. The kind of smile that tells Draco that it's going to be okay and that no matter what happens he's sorry for the fight and he still loves him.

Draco blinks at him, forcing himself not to cry. "Can I say goodbye?" he asks the Dark Lord without looking up at him.

Voldemort looks over at him, but Draco can't tell what his face is. "If you must," he says, taking a few steps back. Bellatrix looks like she's going to be sick.

Putting his wand into his back pocket, Draco takes two big steps forward until he's standing right in front of Harry, their bodies pressed against each other. He doesn't care if he has his aunt and the Dark Lord for an audience. He doesn't care about anything right now. Nothing but Harry.

He reaches his arms up and takes tightly a hold of Harry's face, like it will actually keep him safe. Harry's wrists are chained to the wall, as are his ankles and thighs and stomach. So Draco does the leaning forward, pressing his lips to his Slytherin's. It's just a kiss at first, until of course Harry's tongue involves itself.

Something downstairs explodes, but Draco only pulls away a fraction of an inch from Harry. Because that's not the only thing that's happened.

"Harry, the chains," Draco whispers as Voldemort turns to tell Bellatrix to go check on Peter, ultimately not looking as the chains on Harry are beginning to shimmer.

"I know," Harry says, straining his neck to reach Draco again. "I'll explain it later. I love you, Drake."

Draco doesn't care about the chains anymore. If Harry is going to die, then the prophecy is wrong, so Draco might as well die along with him.

Harry turns his face so the kiss ends. "Apparate. Now."

Draco gets all but a glance at the chains that are not there before disappearing to the first place he can think of: in the forest behind his beach house, where the zirgs that are "owned" by Draco's family live.

Draco steps away from Harry. "I have to go back to get the others!"

"No!" Harry launches forward and grabs Draco's hand, but it's too late.

_**OoOoOoO**_

Both Harry and Draco go straight back to the Manor, but instead of appearing in the room Harry was chained in, they appear in the cell that must have been where Ollivander, Luna, Hermione, and Lavender were.

"Draco, dammit!" Harry whispers furiously, grabbing Draco's wand and yanking it out of his hand so he doesn't get them killed. He shoves it in his back pocket before pulling Draco into his arms. "Didn't you hear? They're gone! They got out!" That's what Bellatrix had screamed just before Harry told Draco to apparate. Draco must have been too into kissing Harry to hear it.

Draco holds his hand over Harry's mouth. "Shh. Listen."

Harry is seething, but he manages to lower his heart rate just enough to listen to the voices upstairs:

"He killed _himself_, my lord!" Bellatrix says pleadingly. "I saw it! I _saw_ it!"

"And the prisoners?" Voldemort asks, his voice deeper, darker, and above his usual calm.

"The house elf!" Bellatrix says, and Harry pictures her bowing to the floor in front of Voldemort, terrified of what he could and will do to her. "Dibbly—Dobby! Dobby the house elf! He came and he _took_ them! I tried to stop them, but the elf made my spells ineffective! But I got him good…the little elf is dead by now! I know! But they…they took it! My wand, they _took_ it! Forgive me, master. _Forgive_ me."

"Peter is the one who killed himself," Draco whispers, dropping his hand from Harry's mouth.

Harry looks at his blond to see his eyes glazed over. He follows them with his own eyes to the bottom of the stairs, where Peter Pettigrew, the man who played the biggest role under Voldemort in killing his parents, is laying dead.

"Take us away again, Drake," Harry whispers, his hands finding Draco's and weaving their fingers together. "I'll explain everything that I can."

Draco buries his face in Harry's chest before they disapparate back to the forest that Harry wishes he knew the location of.

They stand there in silence for a while, but then Draco starts to shake in Harry's arms.

"Are you crying about Pettigrew?" Harry asks in a whisper. He doesn't know what he'll do if Draco says yes.

"I am the stupidest fuck in the entire bloody world!" Draco says, pulling his hands away from Harry's and reaching up to fist them into Harry's shirt.

Harry sighs. "It's okay, Draco. You knew him better than I did. He could have been an okay bloke after everything that happened, I guess."

Draco pulls his face away to look up at Harry with a face that makes Harry _feel_ stupid. "No!" he says. "I _hate_ Peter! I'm crying because of Dobby and _you_. I love you, and I left you just because of the stupid Dark magic in the locket!"

Harry pulls his blond back into his arms, crushing them together. "It's my fault. Not the locket. I love you more than the world. I don't know why I couldn't think of anything. The list I made after you left is longer than I am tall."

Draco tilts his head up to Harry with his cheek still pressed to his chest. "You made a list?"

Harry nods. "I wish you could see it, but it's in my Glimmer Bag, and Hermione has that."

"They didn't take it from her?"

"No, thanks to shrinking charms and a woman's ability to hide things in her bra."

Draco wrinkles his nose up. "Oh. And here I thought I was going to tough it again. Lavender and I dropped mine off with Remmy because we didn't need it."

Harry frowns. "Where is he, anyway?"

"The Tonks', with my mother. How did…um, do you know what happened to Ted?"

Harry sighs. "Snatchers."

"Oh."

"Do you have any idea what happened to Pettigrew?"

"It looked like he strangled himself with the silver hand that Vold—"

Harry slams his hand over Draco's mouth. "Careful," he says. "His name is still tabooed, remember?"

"Oh yeah," Draco says as Harry removes his hand. "He can track me, too. But don't worry! It takes a week for it to become potent enough, and it hasn't even been a full day yet. The twenty-four hours that—never mind, you don't know how it works anyway. The point is we have a week before I have to go back to Meda's—er, with my mother and Remmy. Also, what I was saying earlier, he used the silver hand from the Dark Lord. It was still…around his neck."

"Right. A week. Okay. Not cool. Where are we right _now_?"

"A few miles from the place that I left," Draco says. "After our fight."

Harry looks down at the ground for a moment before looking Draco dead in the eyes. "Draco, I…" He reaches out and takes Draco's left hand. "I want to give something back to you."

Draco tilts his head slightly. "Did you take something?"

"Not exactly…" Reaching into his pocket, Harry produces the emerald ring that Draco had thrown at his feet when he left and slides it onto Draco's ring-finger.

Draco's right hand reaches up to cover his mouth. "They didn't take it?"

"Peter didn't feel it when he patted down my pockets, I guess."

Draco drops his hand and gives Harry a smile brighter than the sun. "I feel like you've just asked me to marry you or something."

"Eh," Harry says with a shrug, "Not for a few more years."

Draco stands up on his tiptoes and presses his lips to the Slytherin's. Harry throws his arms around the blond, gripping tightly to his arse. Draco tangles his fingers in Harry's raven-black hair, pushing his tongue into his mouth.

"It's been so long since Grimmauld Place," Harry breathes.

"Would you kill me if I ruined it, then?" Draco asks guiltily.

Harry chuckles. "No, I suppose not. We're in the middle of a forest, after all."

"Good, because we have more important matters to discuss. I mean, no offence, but I really believe that saving the world is way more important than making out underneath a tree."

Harry smirks. "That's what you say."

Draco rolls his eyes, but Harry just presses on with the important matters:

"While you, Lavender, and Remmy were gone, Hermione and I figured out what two more of the horcruxes are."

Draco's eyes light up. "Wow, I'm not sure whether to be proud of you guys are annoyed that 'Ender and I didn't do a damn thing."

"Let's go with the former, hmm? Either way, one of them is You-Know-Who's snake."

Draco's face falls. "Nagini? We'll never get to her!"

"Which is why we're going for the other ones first. It's one of the cups of Helga Hufflepuff, and the only way for us to get it is to break into the Lestrange family vault."

Draco grins. "That was the plan, yes."

Harry frowns. "Plan? Whose plan?"

"That plan that 'Ender and I had, of course! You don't really think we were just strolling around my estate for a cup of tea with the Dark Lord, do you? We had to get as close to him as we could to help you and Hermione get to the other horcruxes."

Harry grins. "You _Slytherin_, you."

"When the need persists, yes."

Harry takes the blond by the hand. "Come on; let's find a place to camp for the night. Since we don't have either of our Glimmer Bag's we're going to have to rough it."

Draco frowns. "Can we just go to get the cups now?"

"Drake, a plan takes planning. We can't just jump into it all willy nilly."

Draco blinks at him. "And all the Slytherin I ever was just flew out the window."

"_Oh_ yeah."

_**OoOoOoO**_

"Draco, this plan is _insane_," Harry says, running after the blond underneath his Invisibility Cloak. "You can't just walk into Gringotts looking _normal_!"

Draco rolls his eyes but doesn't reply. He can't be seen talking to himself, after all. He just keeps walking up to the far desk with the Slytherin confidence he was raised with.

"Hello!" he says cheerily to the goblin at the desk. "I'd like to get into my aunts vault, please!"

The goblin glares down at him. "Why, Mr. Malfoy. We were under the impression that you were on…" Its lips curl. "House arrest."

"Well, I'm not," Draco says with a smile. _Just be myself_, he thinks. _Be. Myself_. "The Dark Lord favors me, you see. Oh, and here's the key and my wand to prove that it's me!" He holds the two things up. "Hurry, now, I don't have all—"

"Dray!"

Draco whirls around to see none other than his aunt herself, accompanied by Draco's mother.

"Mother!" he says, walking into her arms. "Aunty Bella!"

"Here to get into my vault?" Bellatrix asks.

Draco blinks at her. Why on earth would his aunt assume that he was—of course! "Yes, naturally. Care to join me?"

She nods briskly, and at the sight of three servants of the Dark Lord, the goblin takes Draco's key and ushers them into one of the many carts.

Once situated, Bellatrix points her wand at the goblin. "_Imperio_!"

Draco grins at her as the cart begins to roll. "Which one of them are you, then?" he asks.

"Hermione!" Bellatrix says with a dry smile. Now that she's with people who know she's not really Bellatrix, she can be herself. "And this really is your mother."

Draco all but tackles her. "You're okay! How's Remmy?"

"Wait a second!" Harry is suddenly visible, the cloak in his hands. "You're not really Bellatrix, but you really are Narcissa? What's going on here?"

"Harry!" Bellatrix-Hermione squeals, giving the boy a giant hug. "It's me, Hermione!"

Harry hugs her back. "You're kidding! Of all the days, you came the same day as us! With the same plan, no doubt."

"The cups?"

"Right!"

"Oh, this is brilliant!" Draco says, smiling over at his mother.

"And little Remus is safe at my sisters," Draco's mother says.

"We're _all_ safe!" Harry says. "And we're about to get another horcrux! Draco, I love you. Here I thought your stupid Gryffindor plan was going to get us killed!"

_**OoOoOoO**_

"_Never_," Harry growls, crawling out of the water, "Will I _ever_"—he pulls Draco out behind him—"for the _rest_ of my _life_"—he helps Narcissa out—"or any _other_ life, for that matter"—he sits down in front of his blond—"go with another of your _insane_ Gryffindor plans _again_. Come here, you stupid, _stupid_ man!" He pulls Draco against him, slamming his lips against Draco's. They're soaking wet thanks to their leaping into a lake off the back of a dragon, but the cups of Helga Hufflepuff are tucked safely away into Harry's Glimmer Bag that Hermione disguised as something that Bellatrix would carry around. "And don't you _dare_ suggest that I dress up as a _dragon_ for Halloween this year, or I will curse you into tomorrow!"

Draco giggles. "Oh, you know you love me."

"Hence the kiss."

"Well then," Narcissa says, standing up and looking down at her dress. "That went well. Everybody stand still and I'll hit us all with drying charms."

Nobody moves as Narcissa casts the spell.

"Now what?" Hermione asks, looking down at her now dry Bellatrix-like dress.

Draco sniffs in deeply. "What happened to Dobby?"

Hermione and Lavender exchange sad glances. "Bellatrix got him with her knife," Lavender says quietly. "We buried him behind Bill and Fleur's cottage."

"That's where you guys went," Harry says. He turns to Draco and kisses his blonds temple. "It's alright, he's in a better place now."

"Where do we go now?" Hermione asks.

"School," Harry says instantly. "That's where one of the horcruxes is. The lost diadem of Ravenclaw House. And by the time that we start out war when they see we're there, You-Know-Who's snake will be there as well. I just…don't know how to get there without getting caught."

Narcissa smiles. "I can get you in. Hold on tight." She holds her hands out, and the three others take tightly a hold of her before she apparates away.

Draco looks around the brightly decorated room. "Mother, isn't this the bedroom we stayed in when we were at Aunty Meda's?"

"Aunty _who_?" Hermione asks.

"Me!" a new voice says.

The four of them turn around to see Andromeda Tonks, a sleeping Remus in her arms.

"But why did you bring us _here_?" Harry asks, looking over at Narcissa.

"Because there happens to be a direct passageway from that portrait," she replies, pointing to a portrait of Ted Tonks, "to the Room of Requirement, where the resistance is holding up. They come once a week for food and water by flying brooms through the tunnel to the end of the Hogwarts boundary, and then they apparate right inside of the portrait. Sometimes we get those who don't know how to apparate tagging along, but it's usually just the seventh and sixth years."

"The _resistance_?" all of Harry, Draco, and Hermione ask at once.

"Run by none other than _my_ boyfriend and _his_ best friend," another new voice says, and Harry and the others turn for the second time to see Lavender standing in the open doorway of the bedroom wardrobe.

"'Ender!" Draco says, launching over to give her a hug. "I rode a dragon!"

Lavender's eyes bulge. "Did you?" she looks up at Harry. "I leave you alone for one horcrux—_one_—and you steal the Gringotts _dragon_?"

Harry gives a guilty smile. "At least we didn't give away our location this time?"

"Wait," Hermione says, walking over to shoo Draco off of Lavender and then to pull her out of the wardrobe. "Neville's best friend is Millicent, right?"

Lavender purses her lips. "Actually, Mill is on the Carrow's good side, so she's pretending to be a true Slytherin. You're whole year is going to the lions, I've heard."

All three of the other students speak at the same time:

"_The Carrow's_?" Draco asks louder than any of them, eyes wide and jaw dropped.

"The lions?" Harry asks, cocking an eyebrow.

"Then who _is_ his best friend?" Hermione asks with a frown.

Lavender points at Draco. "Yeah, the Death Eater's have basically taken over. Snape is Headmaster, and Voldemort can even be seen at dinner in the Great Hall some nights." She turns her finger to Harry. "'To the lions'" is basically the same thing as 'to the dogs'. Or people say it when you're standing up against authority. _Looks like so-and-so is going to the lions again_. 'To the snakes' is being a traitor, 'to the birds' is being a suck-up, and 'to the badgers' is someone who has any sort of nervous breakdown." She turns to Hermione. "Right now he has two, actually. Luna, who went back to school when you all went to get the cup, and Ginny because she's the last member of our group besides Neville that is adamantly standing up to You-Know-Who. Blaise hasn't just gone to the birds, he _is_ a bird! He'll do anything to protect himself and Silvi."

Draco looks down at the ground, too speechless to speak, but Harry and Hermione still manage to throw something in:

"How do you _know_ all this stuff?" Harry asks.

"He must be _really_ desperate," Hermione says, making a face. "I can't _stand_ Loony."

Lavender answers Hermione first: "It's not that he's desperate. They're the only ones he can go to right now. Blaise is a complete prick and Mill completely ignores him! So lay off his choice of friends, Miss I'm Dating a Gryffindor That's Scared of Spiders." Hermione rolls her eyes as Lavender looks over at Harry. "You were gone for a few hours, you know. I had plenty of time to apparate to the part of the tunnel I could, fly the rest on a broom, and then meet up with Neville after the portrait of Ted on the other end called him over. He came back here with some others for a supply run, because he wanted to make sure there was enough for the four of us when we went over there."

Harry frowns. "How did you know we decided to go over there?"

"Well, it's the most logical course of action, isn't it?"

"It is," Draco says, showing the first sign of real life since Lavender mentioned the twin Death Eater's. "It's the only way to get the diadem, probably the snake, and…" He stops, looking over at Harry with a look of complete distress.

Harry's face falls as well. He has to die to defeat Voldemort. He actually forgot that he has less than a week left with Draco. "I haven't told anyone," he whispers.

"Neither have I."

"It doesn't matter," Lavender says quietly. "We already know."

"Oh _Harry_!" Hermione says, flying across the room to throw her arms around Harry. "You _can't_ die! You just _can't_!"

"Let him go, Hermione," Lavender says, resting a hand on her shoulder as Draco shakes with tiny sobs. Harry goes to him as soon as he's released.

"You all leave in the morning," Narcissa says quietly. "Take the rest of the day to say your goodbyes."

"We'll see you in the morning," Andromeda says.

They turn and walk away, leaving the four very unhappy seventeen year olds to themselves.

This is the first time Harry has ever seen Hermione cry.

* * *

A/N: Pretty sure I screwed something up while writing the horcruxes in for these last two chapters…but I don't care enough to fix it. So whatever :P


	29. Year 7, Part III

**Year Seven, Part III: A Different Sort of World**

Beginning chapter A/N's: I _love_ writing. It's all I ever do. And I'm thrilled that I've been able to put it to such good use so far! Fanfiction and some of my own original stories and short stories in classes! I just…dear sweet Merlin, I love it. I bring my notebook everywhere. There's always a pen with me. I literally have mini-nervous breakdowns when I can't find my notebook or I'm not allowed to have it with me. I _need_ it. So this is dedicated to all of us writers out there! ^-^

* * *

_After Draco and Harry have collected Severus' memories as he lay dying,  
While Ron and Hermione are in the Chamber of Secrets to destroy the cup,  
After Draco and Harry have spoken to the Ravenclaw ghost with Luna's help,  
In the Room of Requirement…_

Vince and Greg aim their wands steadily at Draco, Harry, and Lavender. Draco can see the diadem from here. Its right beside Greg…it's _right_ there…

"It's the Imperious Curse," Harry whispers. "Their eyes are glazed over. They're being controlled."

"If only we could do something about it," Lavender says, slowly moving to the side. She catches Draco eye and winks, but Draco just gives her a sad look. He has no idea how to get out of this, because chances are that the two boys are being controlled by very powerful wizards so that they'll know all sorts of powerful spells.

A Killing Curse flies at us, but Harry deflects it as I deflect the next one. Spells begin to fly, making things explode and expand and shrink and disappear altogether.

And then Vince uses a spell that makes Draco's blood run cold: the Fiendfyre Curse.

"_Fuck_!" Harry yells, grabbing Draco's hand and sprinting away. Lavender is right on their heels, muttering something to herself.

"'Ender!" Draco yells, turning his head to see her.

"Is this really the _time_, Draco?" she screeches back.

"'Ender, the counter curse! Does it exist or not?"

There's silence for a moment apart from the roaring sound of flames consuming everything in its path. Draco can hear Vince and Greg a ways behind them, and by the sound of it, the Imperious is no longer controlling them.

"Yes, it does!" Lavender yells. "But I've never been able to practice it! I don't know if it will work when I do it or not!"

"_DO IT_!" Draco screams, craning his face around so he can scream even louder at her. And in the process, he sees his fellow Housemate consumed entirely by the flames behind them.

He nearly trips over his own feet, but Harry yanks on his arm and keeps him going. Barely. Vince is dead…and Greg is going to be gone as well if Lavender doesn't hurry.

"LAVENDER!" Draco yells.

When he glances around again, she's stopped and is just standing there, Greg running past her. Draco yanks on Harry's hand, causing both of them to stop and stare as Lavender raises both of her arms.

Greg stops in front of them, panting heavily. "Guys, I am so sorry, I was being con—"

Harry waves his hand at him to shut up, and Draco turns from the two Slytherin's and back to Lavender.

Her wand is in her right hand, and it starts to swirl in circles, a black haze passing over her. Draco is screaming at her to get out of there because the flames are literally coming down at her in a dive, but she can't hear him. She's swirling her wand faster and faster, and the black is now pouring out of her wand like an ocean of shadows. It rushes up and around at the fire in the same forms: dragons and serpents and chimeras. The beasts duel each other in the air, screeching like giant bats and diving into each other. Lavender doesn't stop swirling her wand. The longer and faster she does it, the more shadows come out, and the blacker they are.

"Harry, the diadem!" Draco says, looking over at Harry frantically. "What if it doesn't work? We'll never get it back!"

"It doesn't matter!" Harry says above the sounds of the fire and the shadows. "Fiendfyre is Dark Magic, therefore the horcrux has already been destroyed! We only have two more to ge—"

Harry cuts himself off when all of the noise—all of it, from the fire and the shadows and everything—stops. It just stops, just like that, without any sort of warning. The three of them look at Lavender, who's crumpled to the ground. Draco rushes over to her the fastest, dropping beside her and pushing the hair out of her eyes so he can see her.

She smiles tiredly up at him, dark streaks of soot covering her face and arms. "Well," she whispers hoarsely, looking up at Harry and Greg as well. "It worked."

All three boys burst into the happiest laughter they've ever let go, and the two Slytherin's drop down beside the female Gryffindor, wrapping their arms around her and telling her how amazing she is and thanking her.

"I always knew you were amazing," Draco says, helping her slowly up into a sitting position so that she can lean against him. "But, tell me something."

She turns to face him. "You're wondering where I learned it from," she says.

Draco nods.

"Us too," Harry says, nudging Greg.

Lavender grins. "Snape taught it to me."

All three boys gasp. "_Snape_?" they ask in unison. But Draco understands that. They became friends, after all. Just their becoming friends is his question, now…

She nods. "Back during sixth year, we practiced in the middle of the night for months on how to tame the curse. With Dumbledore's permission, he took me to the middle of a desert. It's the perfect place to take it, because the fire has nowhere to go, so it puts itself out after a while. He created the counter curse himself, and then he passed it down to me. You see, he knew how close I was to you two, therefore he knew that I would do anything at all to protect you—especially Draco. No offense, Harry."

"None taken," Harry says, eyes wide at her story.

"Anyway, one evening I was called into Dumbledore's office, and both he and Snape where there. They told me that it was my job to keep Draco alive, because by keeping him alive I could keep Harry alive, because there was no possible way Harry would let himself die with Draco still around."

Draco smiles over at Harry, who leans over and kisses him on the forehead.

"When I was told that," Lavender continues," I was thrilled, because now I actually had a _reason_ to risk my life for you guys. I was always going to do it, being the Gryffindor idiot that I am, but now I didn't have to question myself about if you guys disapproved. Now I had orders from the most important person I could get them from—I have no respect for the Ministry of Magic—so if you guys told me I had to quit it, I could just laugh at you and continue on. So, three times a week, in the middle of the night, Snape would teach me all sorts of spells that would best protect you guys. We practiced the Fiendfyre curse once a week, because he always said it was the most important. I'm not sure why, and I'm still not, because unless he knew that it was going to be cast here, then there must be something still more important. Maybe it's just in case…" Her eyes widen. "Oh hell, I know why. It's because he knew that he was going to have to die, that bloody idiot. He knew he had to pass it down to someone so that they could tell the rest of the world, and he knew he didn't have time to teach it to many people at once."

Greg's entire body suddenly slumps. "Snape is dead, too?" he asks quietly.

In answer, all of Draco, Harry, and Lavender look back in the direction that the fire was cast from. Everything is burnt to a crisp, and there's no sign of any body…

"How many is that so far?" Harry asks quietly.

"I think it's ten," Draco says sadly. "Your parents, Peter, Sirius, Dumbledore, Mad-Eye, Hedwig, Ted. Dobby, and Snape. As far as I can count, at least…"

As the four seventh years slowly make their way to the door out of this godforsaken Room of Requirement (which had earlier been quite amazing, but that changed when the Room changed), Voldemort's voice echoes through their heads—through the room, through their very souls. He tells them that they have one hour to deliver Harry Potter, or they will all be destroyed. Now it's time for the "good side" to collect their dead.

A few minutes later, the four of them walk into the Great Hall. Everybody stares at them—at Harry.

A full minute passes, and Neville suddenly sprints forward from the crowd, the Sorting Hat on his head, basically dive-tackling his girlfriend. Hermione runs out next, throwing her arms around both of the Slytherin's. Draco scans the crowd for someone coming to him, and he ends up with his arms around Ron.

When their hugs subside, Draco looks up to see his Head of House. "So good to see you again, Draco," Professor McGonagall says with a bright smile.

Draco manages to smile up at her as well. "If you'll let us," he says, looking around the room (where are the twins? And Colin and Lupin and Tonks? There's no way they would miss this), "we're here to destroy the Dark Lord."

The crowd bursts into cheers apart from most of the Slytherin's.

"Why should we?" one voice booms, and Draco turns to see Blaise, his face streaked with tears. "Do you know how many have died because you didn't show up right away? Silvi is gone because of you!"

Draco sees Harry open his mouth to reply, but Neville beats him there:

"Suck it up, you bloody prick."

_**OoOoOoO**_

The entire room stares at Neville, one of his arms around Lavender and the other holding the Sorting Hat. (Why does everyone assume that only the sword of Godric Gryffindor can come out of it? The other Founders helped make it, too. They all have secret weapons of their own, and Neville's already got a plan tucked up his sleeves that will require them…)

"You're mad at Harry for trying to save the world," Neville continues, "because you're girlfriend got herself killed when she decided to stay at fight? She had a choice to leave, Blaise, as did everybody else who lost their lives. She knew that she could die, and so did the others. At least they all had a purpose, here. They died fighting for something they believed in. You can just run off to your real side, if it bothers you so much. Nobody wants you here anyway."

McGonagall gives him a reproving look, but Neville ignores her.

"Fine!" Blaise says, hands balled into fists. "I don't give a damn what happens here!" He turns to the other Slytherin's. "Anyone who wants to survive, come with me."

Every last one of them goes.

Except one.

"Nev, I'm so sorry," Millicent says, making her way towards him. "I was scared. I still am."

Neville smiles sadly at her. "We all are."

McGonagall clasps her hands together. "What an odd group of seventh years," she says. "You're all so different, like you belong in a different sort of world." She turns to the rest of the crowd. "Those of us remaining, prepare for battle!" As the throng cheers, she uses a sonorous charm to continue and be heard: "Say goodbye to your dead! Ready your wands! Man your stations! We have forty-five minutes remaining!"

"Oh, Draco, Lavender!" Neville turns to see Pansy Parkinson and Parvati Patil running over to them, and Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan following close behind.

Neville reaches over and grabs Harry's hand before he goes anywhere, ultimately stopping Draco as well.

He overhears Greg telling the Gryffindor's that didn't come in with him that Vince is dead, but he blocks out how exactly it happened.

"Guys," he says quietly, "There are some people you need to see."

Neville pulls his three companions into the crowd, weaving through people to get to the row of dead they've put together.

Fred Weasley. Remus Lupin. Nymphadora Tonks. Colin Creevey. Those are the ones that Neville's brought them to see.

When Harry sees the two Order members—the ones that brought him to see Draco and then back again, his ex-professor, one of his father's best friends, and now an orphaned child because of the same war sleeping back at home—he goes absolutely still. He goes into a sort of shock, staring down at the intertwined hands of the just recently married couple. Teddy isn't even a month old.

When Draco sees Creevey, he bursts into tears. But when he sees Fred, his knees buckle, and he collapses to the stone for in a pile. Creevey's camera is smashed in one of his pockets, the sharp pieces of metal and plastic jabbing into his skin where he used to bleed. George is literally draped over Fred—his brother, his boyfriend, his very survival—and sobbing out his life into his twins' chest. Neville honestly doesn't know if George will even try to make it out of this war alive anymore.

There's a row of house elves as well, but Neville holds no connection to those.

Lavender goes to hold Draco, because Harry is incapable of doing anything right now. Neville is still holding his hand, and he squeezes lightly.

Harry doesn't look at him, but he does manage to speak: "I'm a godfather," he says quietly. "Lupin told me that I would be at his wedding. I signed a paper and everything. Now their son will be even worse off than me. He won't even know his _godfather_. He won't have anybody but his Granny Andromeda. He'll be bitter and it will take him seventeen years to understand, and then it will be too late." Slowly, Harry turns to face Neville. "Why does everybody I love die?"

Neville frowns. "What do you mean he won't meet his godfather?"

Harry shakes his head, pulling his hand away from Neville's grasp. "Ask Draco," he says, jogging away. "I have a memory to watch!"

Neville frowns after him, watching until he's gone out of sight.

_**OoOoOoO**_

When Draco comes out of his tearful stupor, he knows that Harry has gone. Straightaway he knows he's gone. When you love someone you know these things.

He leaps up, nearly knocking Lavender onto her back. "I didn't even get to say goodbye!" He takes off running, knowing that, no matter how desperate he is, he wont' catch up to Harry. He doesn't even know where he went. Lavender yells after him, but he doesn't hear what she says.

He just keeps running, looking for a clue.

Instead, he runs into the thing he least expected. Literally _the_ least expected thing.

"Felicia?" he gasps, incredulous.

His little cousin smiles brightly down at him, from her spot at the top of the stairs. She doesn't speak, but she nods happily. Draco runs up the stairs to her, but right before he gets to her, somebody frantically calls his name.

He turns around to see Ron and Hermione, the sword of Godric Gryffindor in Ron's hands.

"Draco, run!" Hermione screeches. "That's not—"

She cuts herself off when a sickening rip sounds, and Draco spins around to see the skin of his only female cousin tearing itself open. He stares with horrified eyes, unable to vomit or close his eyes or run or anything as Nagini rips her way out like Felicia was an annoying, ill-fitting skin. When she's out completely, she hisses, rearing back to attack.

And Draco still can't move.

Suddenly, there's a noise that Draco can only describe as a wild battle cry, and an unknown Hufflepuff girl lands in front of Draco and knocks Nagini backwards with…

Draco stumbles backwards. Are those nun-chucks?

Nagini hisses, preparing to attack again, but before she can, three arrows wiz by her head. Draco looks up in shock to see Luna hanging upside-down from a low rafter, a just emptied bow in her hands.

Nagini turns tail and flees.

"Attaaaaack!" Ron screeches, rushing past Draco up the stairs. The Hufflepuff gives another battle cry before rushing after him, and Luna swings down to the ground and goes after them with a pleasant "Hello, Draco!" as she sprints by.

Draco blinks after them before turning to face Hermione. "What just happened?

She smirks. "Those, Mr. Malfoy, are true members of their Houses. Ronald Weasley with the sword of Godric Gryffindor, Luna Lovegood with the arrow-producing bow of Rowena Ravenclaw, and Hannah Abbot with the nun-chucks of Helga Hufflepuff. Neville is waiting farther ahead for an ambush with the battle ax of Salazar Slytherin. Neville's had Basilisk poison made from the crushed teeth for months now, and he poured it over the weapons that didn't have it to destroy Nagini easier!"

Draco snorts. "Helga Hufflepuff used _nun-chucks_?"

The Slytherin nods. "And she wasn't even that thin."

Suddenly, all humor drains from Draco's face, and he turns around to see the mangled skin of his cousin.

"She was taken months ago," Hermione says, appearing up the stairs beside Draco, practically devoid of emotion. "Ron and I ran into her when we were bringing the fangs back, and Nagini came out to attack. We barely got away. We had no idea that bodies could be reused like this…" She raises her wand, but Draco stops her.

"No," he says. "Let me do it." Raising his own wand, he casts a silent fire charm to burn away the remains of Felicia Cea. He prays a silent prayer that she'll be treated well after being murdered. She didn't even get to go to school. Draco's sure she would have been a Slytherin, but Ravenclaw is a close second. Maybe she'll—"

Draco gives a slight yelp when there's a great shimmer in front of him, and then his jaw drops completely when he sees what it all is: every ghost of the Hogwarts castle, Draco's father, Felicia, and a man that looks very much alive.

Hermione gasps beside him, but Draco smiles. "'Licia!"

"Draco!" she says, flying into his arms for a ghostly hug. "They let me be a ghost for a few minutes so I could see you!"

Draco looks up at Lucius, who motions to the real looking man. "You're Lucifer?" he asks.

"You're _Satan_?" Hermione semi-repeats.

The man grins. "The one and only."

Without thinking, Draco rushes straight through Felicia and into his arms to hug him.

"Oh dear Merlin, Draco!" Nearly Headless Nick gasps. "You don't just _hug_ the ruler of the Underworld!"

"Nope," Lucifer says, hugging Draco back, "You don't hug him when you're _dead_. The only one he has to worry about while being alive is Death, and he's out in the Forbidden Forest at the moment."

Draco pulls away and turns to Lucius. "Is it bad that you have pleasant similarities with the Devil?"

All of the ghosts and Lucifer laugh.

"I can't wait until your son dies, Lucy. He's such a joy. 'Licia, love, run back home and go to your mother, now. It's been your time."

Felicia smiles bright and nods. "Bye, Draco! Tell Remmy I love him!" And she disappears.

Draco looks back at Lucifer. "Can I ask you to say hi to anyone for _me_?"

Lucifer smiles sadly. "I'm sorry, Draco, but all the ones that you want to greet are not in a place that I can touch."

Draco frowns. "But I thought—"

Lucifer raises his hand, and Draco stops talking. "Heaven is a curious thing, child. Sometimes it is not my choice."

Draco sighs, nodding sadly.

"Alright!" Lucifer says. "Where's Peeves?"

"Here, your magnificence!" Peeves says, flying up to Lucifer. "Operation chalkboard erasers are ready to throw!"

"Good! The rest of you, you know what to do. Break!"

There's another great shimmer, and Draco sees his father wink before all of them disappear completely.

"And to think," Hermione says, "there's not a single book that tells about the Devil's American accent."

"SUCCESS!" four voices scream, causing Draco to yelp and Hermione to cock an eyebrow as the four that ran off to get Nagini suddenly appear at the top of the stairs.

"Hermione, we did it!" Ron says, spinning his sword around. He's grinning from ear to ear, but suddenly the sword flies out of his hand. Everyone watches as it clatters to against the stone floor and disappears with a shimmer.

"Well, anyway," Ron says, awkwardly scratching behind his ear. "Neville was the one who actually got the snake, needless to say."

"My turn!" Luna yells, throwing her bow. It disappears before it even hits the ground. "It's so hard to hit a snake with a weapon you've never used before."

"Or to injure it with a weapon that's not sharp at all," the Abbott girl says, bending down to set her nun-chucks lightly on the floor. She smiles at Draco. "You must be Draco Malfoy. I'm Hannah. Neville recruited me for this job after I took up residence in the Room of Requirement!"

"Nice to meet you!" Draco says. He turns to Neville, who smirks.

"It feels like I'm holding a hammer," he says, nimbly spinning the ax in his hands.

"You're Thor from a parallel universe!" Hermione exclaims with a bright smile. Probably the only one that Draco's ever seen.

But the other five simply blink at her.

She sighs. "Never mind."

_**XxX**_

"Harry Potter is _dead_!"

As soon as the words pass through Voldemort's lips, Draco bursts into tears. What is he supposed to do now? Nobody can survive without Harry. He _can't_ be dead…

He looks at everyone around him through blurry eyes. So many people have already died just for Harry to survive and save them all. Sirius Black. Dumbledore. Mad-Eye. Hedwig. Ted. Dobby. Snape. Colin. Fred. Lupin. Tonks. Etcetera.

He can't be dead now. Not after all of this.

Draco crumples to the ground, but nobody moves to catch him this time. Lavender crouches down beside him like she did before, but she doesn't say a word.

Voldemort sees him. "Ah, Draco, there you are," he says, pointing his wand over to him. "I've missed my most recent Death Eater."

Everybody stares straight at Draco as Voldemort slowly makes his way towards him. The people that are around him scramble back, including Lavender—_after_ she whispers into his ear: "I love you."

When the Dark Lord stands in front of him, he holds his hand out to. While everybody is watching, Draco reaches up and takes it to help himself up. Gasps sound throughout the mass, but Draco drops his hand instantly and takes a step away from the man that killed his love.

Almost calmly, he says, "Fuck you."

More gasps, but all Voldemort does is laugh. "Do not strain yourself, boy," he says, turning around and making his way back across the clearing of rubble. And then he gives a speech about death and life and survival and all sorts of things Draco doesn't care about anymore. Why would he care about anything when Harry is…

His Slytherin tumbles out of Hagrid's great arms.

When Harry is…

The boy with the lightning scar leaps up, his wand pointing steadily at the Dark Lord.

Draco's eyes widen.

When Harry is _alive_.

_**OoOoOoO**_

_After the battle between the Boy Who Lived Twice and the Great Lord Voldemort…_

Harry collapses into the dust of crushed castle stone.

It's over. It took his entire being, but it's over.

Voldemort didn't understand how he couldn't kill Harry right away, but Harry explained it to him well. The Elder Wand was first Dumbledore's, but then became Draco's when he disarmed the Headmaster on the night of his death. Then, after leaving Malfoy Manor, Harry had grabbed Draco's wand away from him so that they wouldn't get themselves killed. Draco got his wand back later, but the Elder Wand still belonged to Harry because he _gave_ Draco's wand back to him. Draco didn't _take_ it.

And now Voldemort is dead, and Harry can barely even move.

That doesn't matter, though, because someone moves him for him.

Draco lifts him up into his arms, crying tears of joy into Harry's shirt. Lavender is there, and Ron and Pansy and Parvati. And Neville is there, and Hermione and Greg and Millicent and Harry's pretty sure that that's Blaise standing a long ways away and even George is there, pushing everybody aside but Draco to hug Harry so tightly that his eyes bulge out.

And all of the surviving Hogwarts professors are there, and all of the surviving Weasley's, and Andromeda is there with little Teddy in her arms, and Borgin is standing beside Narcissa, who's standing there with little Remus in her arms and Lucius floating at her side. And all of the ghosts are whooping and hollering and Peeves is singing a song about Voldy being Moldy. And Hagrid is crying like a blubbering first year and Harry wishes that he could see Dudley to thank him for telling him he wasn't a waste of space before he left and he wants Draco to say hello to Rawr and he wants to hear Bravery's stupid accent again.

But everything is perfect. Some people haven't survived, and some of them won't survive because of those of them who haven't, but for now the war is over and Harry's with everyone that he can be that he loves. And he sees the Death Eater's and the giants and the vampires and the werewolves fleeing from the castle. And he sees the centaurs and the unicorns and the zirgs all running around with each other in happiness, and for the first time he's not even kind of afraid of the zirgs and their spidery legs and their webby places of living.

Because Harry is happy. Because, right now, everything is perfect. Professor McGonagall might have said that they all came from a different sort of world, but Harry wouldn't have it any other way.

* * *

References: 1. _When Draco comes out of his tearful stupor, he knows that Harry has gone. Straightaway he knows he's gone. When you love somebody you know these things.  
_These three lines are actually a quote from something called _Skellig_ by David Almond. The original lines are: "I woke up and knew he was gone. Straightaway I knew he was gone. When you love somebody you know these things."

/

A/N: 1. I would just like to make it very, _very_ clear that Lucifer/Satan/the Devil is not at _all_ pleasant in real life. He is a _horrible_ creature that belongs in the fiery pits of hell (which is not at all pleasant either, by the way) where he'll suffer forever. Don't mistake my Lucifer for the real one! EVER!

2. That awkward moment when the basically-last chapter is pretty much the shortest one in the entire fic. Except for like the first four since they're just background. Whatever!

3. Also I just realized while posting this, if you see any random 3's in my A/N's, they're meant to be cat faces but idk something must have happened. So just pretend there's a colan or whatever you call it put before it. Haha.


	30. Epilogue

**Epilogue: Something to Do**

Beginning chapter A/N's: This chapter is dedicated to Voldemort, because as evil as he is he is the most adorable thing in the world. I don't know I just picture him all cute and baking chocolate cake with Bella or something. (This has been a short trip into the mind of Katy. Please run to the exit as fast as you can if you would like to live.)  
Also it's dedicated to the Sherlock Holmes BBC series, because you never know what you'll do when you're _bored_!

* * *

Seventeen year old Neville Longbottom sets the fifth Sorting Hating back onto his pedestal in the Headmaster's office. His girlfriend, Lavender Brown, is standing at the other end of the room.

"And wasn't _that_ a story to tell your grandchildren?" asks the hat, giving a funny little snort.

"I'm just glad that it worked!" Neville says, smiling up at the hat.

"Of course it worked!" says the hat. "My plans always work! Maybe not right away, but in due time. I hold the key to all the worlds' secrets, you know."

"Speaking of worlds," Lavender says, walking forward with her arms crossed. "How is the fourth hat doing?"

"No idea," says the fifth hat with a frown. He hates all of the time that passes that he cannot speak to his closest friend. "We only meet at the time between August 31st and September 1st. Once a year."

"Well maybe it's time for a change!" Neville says. "After all, if you can control things so freely, you might as well meet at least once a month to make it all turn out right."

The hat smiles down at them. "I'm so glad the fourth hat and I switched things around. In the seventh Universe, everything stayed the exact same. I mean, none of you were taken from one Universe and dropped into another."

"Like how I'm _actually_ supposed to be in _Gryffindor_?" Neville scoffs.

"You're very different in that world, young Longbottom," the hat says. "Everybody is."

Lavender exhales in a loud sigh. "But you still haven't told us why you and the fourth hat conspired against us all."

The hat grins at her. "We were bored."

Lavender rolls her eyes heavenward, a smile on her face. "Alright, so you were bored. I accept that. Who all are the one's who changed, anyway? You told us that I'm actually meant to be in Gryffindor in the first place, but in the fourth Universe I'm Slytherin. Why didn't you switch me, too?"

"_That_ I will not divulge to you," says the hat. Of course, it knows very well why he did not change her. If she were in the same House as Harry, then who would have been Draco's best friend? It could not have been Ronald, because he needed to get together with Hermione in the end. You have to be extra careful when planning things like this out, you know. "But the ones I took from Gryffindor and put into Slytherin House are Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ginevra Weasley, and George Weasley. And those that I took from Slytherin are Pansy Parkinson, Vincent Crabbe, and Draco Malfoy."

The two children gasp (they're really not children in the sense of their world, but to the hat, they are nothing but newlyborns), speaking at the same time:

"Draco is supposed to be _Slytherin_?" Lavender says, a skeptical smile on her face.

"All Weasley's are meant for _Gryffindor_?" Neville asks, incredulous.

The hat nods, suppressing a grin. "Didn't you make any connection, Lavender, dear? Don't you see anything…there…about who was switched?"

Lavender purses her lips and nods. "All of the people that you named have parents in the opposite House. All of the Slytherin's have Gryffindor parents—except Hermione, but nearly—and all of the Gryffindor's have Slytherin parents. _That's_ why their children were always so different from them, and _that's_ why a muggleborn _actually_ got into Salazar's House!"

The hat nods again as Neville stares at her. "Really?" the boy asks. "That's how it works?"

The hat nods a third time. "That's how everything works, young Longbottom. By my command."

When the happy couple leaves the room, the fifth Sorting Hat continues to think to itself. Why _do_ all of his hat friends only meet once a year? Why not more? It would make so much more sense. Besides, most everything is over, now… He wants to discuss with the fourth hat what's going on in its Universe as well.

Yes. That's what the fifth hat will do. It will invite all of them to pause time with him.

_**OoOoOoO**_

"We've never met on a day other than between August 31st and September 1st!" says the second Sorting Hat.

"I know!" says the first Sorting Hat. "What an adventure!"

"I'm just glad it's finally over with!" says the fifth Sorting Hat.

"Yes!" says the fourth Sorting Hat. "Now we can pair up with other hats to make even _more_ fun, exciting things that the Fate's have in store for them!"

"The Fate's," the third Sorting Hat says in a mocking tone. "Seven years later hasn't changed our view on them and you know it."

"There's always next year," says the fourth hat.

"And the year after that," says the first with a dignified chuckle.

"And for the rest of eternity!" says the second hat with a slightly forced snicker.

The third hat giggles, the fourth hat laughs loudly, and the fifth hat gives a funny little snort.

"You'd think they would have made it all happen faster," since the first hat with a slight scoff.

"Yes, it did surprise me when the boy still took seven years to do away with Tom Riddle completely," says the third hat.

"At least he got it done at all," says the second hat.

The fifth hat smiles, ready to change the subject completely. "Oh, did you hear?" it asks. "In the two-thousand, seven-hundred, and thirty-sixth Universe, Percy Weasley, Ronald Weasley, and Fleur Delacour were recaptured and put back into Azkaban."

"I'm sure they'll be out in no time," the second hat says darkly.

"But wait!" says the fifth hat. "There's more! The hat from the one-hundred and eighty-ninth Universe is able to speak again!"

The fourth hat gives a happy gasp. "Yes, of course I heard! Can you believe it was the divination professor that thought of a way to help it? I guess seeing into the future really isn't as scarce as they thought!"

They talk for another hour—if there was time, that is, for there to have been an hour to pass—before it's time that does not exist for the hats to go.

"Don't let Helga try and stitch your mouth together again!" says the second hat to the first.

"And get yourself a new box before it melts from the heat!" says the third to the second.

"Don't fly too low!" says the fourth hat says to the third.

"Don't do anything fun without talking to me first!" says the fifth hat to the fourth.

"Don't kill anyone else," says the first hat to the fifth. "It's getting rather depressing."

And then, a door opens in the wall of the white marble and four phoenixes fly into the room. The royal purple one flies in and takes the first, the black ones takes the second, the third hat flies away on its own wings, and the two red ones take the fourth and fifth.

When each of them had gotten back to their Universes, time again begins to flow. But it will stop again, whenever they feel the need for it to. And maybe next time, they'll bring in a few more hats so that they can have more things to do to create different worlds. To create even more Universes.

Because every Universe makes for something to marvel at. It makes for something to do.


	31. The Afterward

**The Afterward: A World Full of Souls**

Beginning chapter A/N's: This chapter is dedicated to all of the people/souls/whatever that have died. That have _ever_ died. For their family members that had to mourn their loss, and for the friends that didn't know what to do once they were gone. Suicides and homicides and emotional sides. Wherever you are, somebody misses you, and being missed is something that every person in the world is striving for.

* * *

Harry and Draco kiss passionately in front of all of the onlookers.

And one of those onlookers so happened to be the Hogwarts professor, Professor McGonagall. She goes off to the Gringotts bank as quickly as she can, a look of sorrow in her eyes. The vault for the bet for the surviving love of Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy has gained interest over the years—even when Harry did not attend Hogwarts for his seventh year.

But it's over, now. The bet is over. After all this time—the longest seven years Hogwarts has ever faced—the boys have survived.

All of the Hogwarts professors who had survived show up at the wizard bank within no more than five minutes of each other. Out of the three sides, the most winning side (that believed the boys would become friends and more than friends) are Dumbledore, Binns, Lupin (though he came in when the boys were up in sixth year, he and all of the other ex-professors still got to join in on the bet), and Trelawney. The half winners (just friends) are Babbling, Hagrid, Pomfrey, Quirrell, Sinistra, and Slughorn. And the losers (those who thought that neither would happen) are Filch, Flitwick, Lockhart, McGonagall, Pince, Snape, and Sprout.

Even though three of those professors are not able to show and collect their earnings, the remaining professors still put their earnings into the vaults of those that are now controlling them.

But, even as the remaining professors who are on the winning side divide up the amount the bet had earned (six-hundred and eighty-four Galleons, seven Sickles, and two Knuts), there are twelve faces that look down upon the boys near the Gringotts bank with—mostly—warm smiles:

"I told you, Sirius," Albus says quietly, his eyes twinkling over his half-moon glasses.

"It's a love potion!" Sirius roars.

"Oh, give it a rest, you old coot!" Severus says, hitting Sirius happily on the back.

"Yeah, you lost fair and square!" Nymphadora says, laughing happily at him.

"'Sides," Fred says, "If it were a love potion, Harry would have died because he wouldn't have been able to get out of the chains! It had to be real, mutual love, remember?"

"Yes, of course!" Ted says with a brilliantly bright smile. "Albus told all of us about how he saw the chains on Harry melt away when Draco kissed him in Malfoy Manor. You saw it too, didn't you, Alistor?"

"Clear as day, I saw it," Alistor growls, the socket that holds his magical eye held tightly closed. He still hasn't been able to jump down to the world of the living to grab it back, and it's making him extremely cross, so that's all that he says.

"That's right!" chirps Dobby as he leaps up and down and claps his hands. "That's right, it's all real!"

"Yes!" Collin says, his camera hanging around his neck and bouncing off of his chest as he bounces up and down with Dobby like the first year he used to be. "All of it! They love each other more than anything! Isn't that right, James?"

"Very right," James says with a warm smile to the exuberant house elf and sixteen-year-old boy. "I'm so proud of him. Even the skinny blond one, no matter whose son he is." James remembers well his relationship with Lucius. Then Lily grew up, and just being friends was no longer enough.

"We're all proud of him," says Lily, squeezing James's hand. She knows about all of that, too, but she doesn't care about it anymore.

"Well...not all of us," Lupin says beside his fellow Marauder's.

He looks over at Sirius' grumbling figure, and everybody laughs but Dobby, who continues to jump around happily, and Albus, who just continues to smile warmly and let his eyes sparkle.

There are a lot missing from their little group that had died. Fawkes and Hedwig are flying around high above them, too high to hear. Those of the zirgs clan that perished—Kageomoi, Pampu, Puckanji, and Zou—are off in their zirgs form, hopping through clouds and picking the flowers that grow there. Gezer the house elf (the father of little Jericho and the wife of Ashdod) is with them, dusting his own little tree. And then the other Death Eaters, Andrew and Jillian Yaxley, Thane Crabbe, the two Carrow's, Bellatrix Lestrange, Peter Pettigrew, Quirinus Quirrell, and Voldemort himself, are in unknown places. Even the Dark Lord does not dare show his face around here, all of him and his followers too corrupted by the Dark to repent. Andrew and Thane liked Draco, but that didn't mean that they were going to give up their Darkness. Cedric Diggory is by himself, still in the process of counting how many blades of living grass there are on the earth. Lucius Malfoy is still a ghost, living happily with his wife and Andromeda.

As the other eleven continue to argue, Albus looks happily down upon Harry and Draco as they pull apart from their kiss in the middle of the crowded street—the crowded street that did not even watch them, because it was such a normal thing by that time.

"Good boy, Draco, surviving through a lifetime of death," he says quietly, smiling down at the silver-eyed Gryffindor.

"Well done, Harry, you brave, brave man," he says even quieter, turning to smile down at the green-eyed Slytherin. "Well _done_."

For Albus did in fact know of Harry's secret of his sexual orientation long before the Weasley twins knew, as did he know about Draco's long before the blond knew it himself. There are just some things that an older gay man notices before younger ones that can read minds do, and before one can notice something about themselves on their own—especially when it comes to two young boys with nowhere to go.

And at that time, down in the square where Harry and Draco stand, each of the boys look up into the sky, because they can swear they just heard the short messages meant for them, each as though the old Headmaster was floating right above them, waiting and longing to be noticed.


	32. The Conclusion

**The Conclusion: When Love Survives**

Beginning chapter A/N's: This chapter is dedicated to the beautiful JK Rowling, my—and who should be your—Queen. Without her I never would have written this story, and this took up months of my life and it was so much fun and I am just so glad for her and her existence! I can't wait to read the new book of hers that's coming out!

* * *

At just twenty-one years of age, Harry asked Draco to marry him in the middle of the London Zoo, which they had visited with the tickets that Harry got for his seventeenth birthday. Their wedding was magnificent. They had it at the Malfoy beach house, and only after the wedding did the two men find out that Narcissa was giving that house to them as a wedding present. Forever more, Draco would force Harry to interact with the zirgs, and Harry was perfectly alright with that. Of course, Harry got Draco a present as well: lists. They were the pieces of parchment that Harry had written when he was on the run with Draco, Hermione, Lavender, and little Remus. Harry and Draco had both completely forgotten about them, but Hermione had kept them preserved all those years and given them to Harry for the specific purpose of his giving them to Draco.

The colours of the wedding were silver and gold, and because their wedding went against the regular male-female wedding, they didn't have bride's maids and grooms men. They had George, Neville, Greg, and Hermione on Harry's side, and Lavender, Ron, Pansy, and Millicent on Draco's side. Felicia was once more allowed to come back as a ghost to be the flower girl, and little Remmy was the ring barer. The two men invited the entirety of the Weasley family, all of Draco's family (even Draco didn't know he had so many surviving relatives), all of the Hogwarts professors, Grawp, Colin Creevey's family, Hermione's parents, the two remaining Lovegood's, all of the other Slytherin's and Gryffindor's that had been in Harry and Draco's year (Blaise had long ago asked for forgiveness, and he long ago received it), and the three people that Harry, Draco, and Lavender impersonated when breaking into the Ministry. They invited house elves, too: Winky, Jericho, Ashdod, and Kreacher. And to top it all off, they invited some zirgs and nobijies in their human form: Remedy, Cinna, Leve, Vixen, Taizac, Momo, and Romanji.

Draco's ring was a band of silver gold, and it replaced the emerald ring that had been there for all of the years between sixth year and their wedding. A gold band replaced Harry's. Draco's silver and Harry's gold to symbolize that differences don't mean anything anymore.

After much discussion, they decided that they would be known as Draco Lucius and Harry James Malfoy. And a few years after their wedding, they adopted a set of twins that were young enough that they could name them themselves. Lucius James Malfoy was the boy, and Lilia Cissa Malfoy was the girl. They called them Lucy and Lily for short.

Harry and Draco weren't the first to tie themselves down, though. Ron and Hermione beat them to it at nineteen years old, now known as Ronald and Hermione Weasley. Then came Millicent (at twenty) and a man she met after the war named Ben Cale, and they're now known as Benjamin and Millicent Cale.

After Harry and Draco came Neville and Lavender, not even a year after, still twenty-one years of age as well. Their wedding was by far the most beautiful, especially considering that Lavender designed her own bride's maid dresses and wedding gown. Blaise's grandmother attended the wedding, and while Lavender was already working for her, Mrs. Anastasia Zabini decided then that it was time for Lavender to have her own fashion line.

And speaking of Blaise, he was able to recover from Silvi's death. He married a young lady named Abigail Bratt, and they're now known as Blaise and Abigail Zabini.

Filch's funeral was small and cat themed. Mrs. Norris was given to professor McGonagall, who refused to ever stop teaching at her Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She hired two new caretakers named Luke Havisham and Bravery London Lockhart the 2nd, and unlike Filch, they loved the students and the students loved them.

George, Gregory, and Vincent never got married, but Parvati married a nice gentleman named Edmond Bentley. Seamus finally broke through to Dean, and the two men started dating six years after the war.

Luna eventually found a man nearly more insane than her named Ardies Dylan. The last of the group to settle down was Ginny, who married a Carlin Zehen, and they're now known as Carlin and Ginevra Zehen. Harry and Draco promised Ron that they would never tell his sister that her new last name was German for "toe".

All was well.

_**fin**_


	33. Ending Author's Notes, Part I

**End A/N's, Part I: The Colours**

Glimmer Bag Colour Descriptions  
(20 colours)

1. Red: fiery; gets angry easily; good at hurting people in alls sorts of ways  
2. Orange: loves drama; good at acting; sometimes overreacts to normal everyday things  
3. Cream-sickle orange: good at pretending; good at hiding both emotionally (their thoughts and feelings) and physically (when finding a hiding place from somebody trying to kill them, ect.)  
4. Burnt orange: unpredictable in their actions/thoughts/feelings  
5. Yellow: cheerful and happy  
6. Grass green: athletic; outdoorsy; likes people  
7. Evergreen green: likes to be alone; maybe a little (or a lot) antisocial; reserved in public, but maybe a little "overdone" when alone  
8. Lime green: very trustworthy (ex. good at keeping secrets); bad at lying for yourself, but when it comes to saving a life/protecting somebody in general you can do it without thinking  
9. Turquoise: doesn't like people but is okay with being around them; likes to be in the "in crowd"; sarcastic; blunt  
10. Baby blue: bubbly; spunky; outgoing and maybe just a little weird (but maybe a lot)  
11. Navy blue: responsible; organized; pretty good at whatever they put their minds to; successful  
12. Royal blue: haughty; thinks they're more superior to everybody else; expects people to always listen to them; usually the best leaders because they go all out in it  
13. Lavender: calm; mellow; laid back; doesn't necessarily care what happens, they just go with the flow  
14. Lilac: a "caretaker". Somebody who is good at taking care of animals, kids, and anybody else who needs to be taken care of  
15. Royal purple: passionate about whatever they're doing, even if they dislike it; also passionate with their feelings and opinions  
16. Pink: charismatic; the type of person that people instantly like, but may stop liking them once they really get to know them  
17. Brown: always complaining; probably someone who should or is clinically depressed or is at least just down in the dumps all of the time—or most of the time—for no reason in particular  
18. White: innocent (the Bag is this colour before it is touched because it is still innocent to human feelings)  
19. Gray: "emotionless"; it's always nearly impossible to tell what they're thinking or feeling; they just like to sit their and do _nothing_; usually very boring  
20. Black: [the opposite of lime green!] untrustworthy; very good at lying, especially when it comes to their own gain—they usually don't lie to save anybody else unless they think they're receive something from it as well

_**XxX**_

Which Colours the Characters Are (What they are by the end of the fic)  
(47 people unless I counted wrong, including people where their colour is never even mentioned in the fic, because I was having way too much fun with this.)

1. Red: Hermione Granger; Voldemort  
2. Orange: Millicent Bullstrode; Felicia Cea  
3. Cream-sickle orange: Neville Longbottom  
4. Burnt orange: Lucius Malfoy; Narcissa Malfoy  
5. Yellow: Molly Weasley; Remus Cea; Colin Creevey  
6. Grass green: Ronald Weasley; Thane Crabbe; Bravery London Lockhart the 2nd; Arthur Weasley; Cedric Diggory  
7. Evergreen green: Severus Snape; Remus Lupin  
8. Lime green: Gregory Goyle; Vincent Crabbe; Lily Potter  
9. Turquoise: Harry Potter; Borgin; George Weasley  
10. Baby blue: Luna Lovegood; Sirius Black  
11. Navy blue: Blaise Zabini; Andrew Yaxley; Bill Weasley; Charlie Weasley; Percy Weasley; Minerva McGonagall  
12. Royal blue: Alecto Carrow; Dudley Dursley; Silvia O'Reilly  
13. Lavender: Lavender Brown  
14. Lilac: Draco Malfoy; Rubeus Hagrid  
15. Royal purple: Fred Weasley; Ginny Weasley; Bellatrix Lestrange; James Potter  
16. Pink: Albus Dumbledore; Nymphadora Tonks  
17. Brown: Pansy Parkinson  
18. White: NO ONE MWAHAHAHAHAAAA (cough; sorry)  
19. Gray: Jillian Yaxley  
20. Black: Peter Pettigrew; Amycus Carrow


	34. Ending Author's Notes, Part II

**End A/N's, Part II: Made Up Characters  
**(42 names unless I counted wrong)

_**Characters  
**_Abigail Bratt (Blaise's wife)  
Anastasia Zabini (Blaise's grandmother)  
Anker (a house elf)  
Ardies Dylan (Luna's husband)  
Ashdod (Jericho's mother)

Ben Cale (Millicent's husband)  
Brandon (AKA Big Bee) (the muggle who harasses Draco)  
Bravery London Lockhart the 2nd (3/4 Veela Squib)

Carlin Zehen (Ginny's husband)  
Cinna ("king" of the zirgs clan)  
Cory (muggle)

Edmond Bentley (Parvati's husband)

Felicia Cea (Draco's cousin)  
Fify (a house elf)

Gezer (Jericho's father)

Jericho (gay child elf)  
Jillian Yaxley (Andrew Yaxley's wife; PS, I made up Yaxley's first name)

Kageomoi (daughter of Cinna and Remedy)

Leve (one of the Malfoy's "pet" zirgs)  
Lila (a house elf)  
Lilac (a house elf)  
Lilia Cissa Malfoy (Harry and Draco's adopted daughter)  
Lucifer (AKA Satan, the Devil, Lord of the Underworld, etc.)  
Lucius James Malfoy (Draco and Harry's adopted son)  
Luke Havisham (Squib)

Mark (muggle)  
Momo (of the zirgs clan in the Forbidden Forest)

Neon (a house elf)

Pampu (one of the Malfoy's "pet" zirgs)  
Puckanji (one of the Malfoy's "pet" zirgs)

Remedy ("queen" of the zirgs clan)  
Remus Cea (Draco's cousin)  
Rilo (a house elf)  
Romanji (one of the zirgs clan)

Silvia O'Reilly (Blaise's girlfriend up until her death in the war)  
Spencer (muggle)

Taizac (a nobijies of the zirgs clan)  
Toni (a house elf)

Venus (Lucifer's wife)  
Vixen (a nobijies of the zirgs clan)

Yoshi (a house elf)

Zou (the oldest member of the zirgs clan)

* * *

Good lord, I feel like I'm writing credits for a movie or something. Because I've been writing this since the first month of my summer vacation! It's been 11 ENTIRE MONTHS, guise. I seriously have no life…then again, I have been writing a bunch of other stories in the process. Besides, this _is_ my life. Writing.

Also, the reason that I posted all of this at the same time is because I'm the type of person that writes something in chapter one and then decides to change it when I'm way up in chapter twenty, and I wouldn't have been able to if I had already posted it. So!

Anyway. **I love you guys.** Every. Last. One. Of you. Thank you so much for reading! I owe you a world of thanks! A _different sort of world_ of thanks!

…

Get it. Get it?

Okay I'm not funny I'm going now bye thank you for reading and reviews and whatever bye!


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